I don’t know what I expected, but a small lobby presents itself, with clean gray floors and wooden desks. Stairs lead up to a second level and hallways into the back of the building. I was half expecting to be greeted by a bunch of staring kids, but I know I’m being paranoid.
The young woman at the counter takes one look at me and trots into the back office.
Well, this is a great start.
I’m going to tell Zane his planet pisses me off. He talked me into coming here—and I caved far too easily—so he’s gonna get the harassment.
The scuffed toes of my boots look odd atop the blue circle of carpet against the front desk. I lean against the desk, arms folded. Someone will eventually come back out. I don’t suppose they can call the authorities on me just for walking in the front door. Cyborgs aren’t illegal here. I wonder if a vein pops in Captain’s head every time a planet or even city tries to ban us. I smirk.
A full thirty seconds later, an older woman with grey hair and a shirt that looks like it hasn’t seen a wrinkle in its life rounds. To her credit, she winces less, but the tightening around her eyes is noticeable.
“Can I help you?”
I can tell I’m spending too much time around the siblings when I’m slightly annoyed she doesn’t apologize for her coworker running for it. No one has before, I shouldn’t expect it now.
“I have a bit of an odd request,” I say, trying to sound as harmless as possible, hoping something flippant will loosen her up. How would Lalia talk to these people? “I was wondering if you could look up any of the records for 5635 and any children who might’ve been taken out with the outbreak.”
Her lips visibly pinch at the word fever. I’m sure most people know someone who was affected, if they weren’t themselves.
“I’m sorry, we don’t give out private records.”
Figured it might be something like that.
“I’m just looking for someone, and I don’t need private information.”
She eyes me. I’m being as overly-nice as I know how—which is easier on strangers than the sibling’s parents—so this is likely doubly strange for her.
“Are you a cyborg?” she asks, edging closer to the desk.
I stop myself from grimacing. “Yes.”
“From Amerov?”
I really don’t understand how people keep asking that, but I answer, “Yes.”
“I’ve never seen a cyborg before.”
Oh. That’s why she doesn’t automatically assume I’m unregistered. Never seen one of us? We must be rare as hell here. I suppose there isn’t much reason for our kind to be crawling this planet. If she’s never left her city, it wouldn’t be to strange, I suppose.
She seems to be expecting me to speak, so I shrug. “We’re not that interesting, I promise.”
Eyes flickering over me, she turns the large tablet behind the desk a little more towards her. Maybe I don’t have to have an official request if this woman thinks all cyborgs must be on official Amerov business.
“What’s the name you’re looking for?”
“All we know is first name, ‘Aaron’, and year born was 5624. He seems to have been surrendered to Amerov in 5635 when he was ill.”
Her face pinches as she taps at the tablet. “I was here those years. Awful time. We didn’t have anyone like that, I’d remember. But I’ll check anyway.”
She gives me three separate ‘Aaron’s’ who were sick those years—common name, as I thought—two died that year, one lived and still lives on planet. I consider the possibility whoever gave me over to Amerov lied on my records, but looking at the photos of the three sick boys lets me know I’m not them. None of the features are even remotely correct on a baseline level.
“Thank you for checking. Do you know of any of the other orphanages on this planet surrendering any children to Amerov?” It’s rare, so maybe someone’s heard of it.
She shakes her head, definitely trying to catch a better look at my augmentations under the hood, but at least she isn’t backing away.
“Sorry, I’d remember if I heard something like that.”
Nodding, I thank her again before heading for the door. Not too bad. Pretty painless, actually. Across the street, Yvonne and Anya are visible in the front window of the store.
One down. A few dozen more to go.
We visit perhaps another twenty cities in much the same manner. Land in an inconspicuous place, walk into the city, find the building, go inside, talk to the person at the front. Repeat. Except the sisters go inside with me since Yvonne’s purple eyes are hidden.
We gather plenty of odd looks and a few people who don’t want to talk, but nothing save the same negative results. I don’t know if it comforts me or makes it worse that we’re gathering information that makes the siblings sound correct.
Either way, Anya is having fun. Yvonne buys her any food she points out. When we eventually pause for the night—I’d keep going, but I don’t think anyone’s going to answer doors after dark—she goes back to rummaging in the undergrowth with Bat.
It occurs to me, not for the first time, that Bat’s going to miss the little gremlin a lot more than he’d admit once we have to return them to Neyla Ve. I try not to think too hard about it, especially not about the fact that Yvonne will be gone as well. It’s probably for the best. She’ll get over her weird obsession eventually, and it’s better for me not to be around.
I’ve lost track of the amount of visits we’ve made by the time we land in the city the planet files mark as the capital. Still, it isn’t large, perhaps as large as the city where I found Yvonne on Amethyst. More populated, but about the same size. Less tourism. No rich gamblers.
The forest is thicker here, and after circling the city twice, I’m resigned to the fact I’m not going to find a good place to land among the trees without ripping the paneling off my ship. Grumbling, I head for the nearest ship yard, trying to find the most out-of-the-way one possible, so at least we don’t get too many eyes on us. Parking us down between a few larger ships, next to the line of trees waving softly in the breeze, makes me feel a bit more secure. At least people wandering back for their ships aren’t likely to get too good a look at us. A payment pops up on my ship’s computer—at least I don’t have to look for the person running this place—and I send over the fine. It’s small, and I have plenty of credits now from the little misadventure on Amerov.
It’s weirdly amusing not to have to worry about credits. At least, not for a while.
Anya presses her face to the port window, staring at the closest ship I’ve hidden us behind. “I can’t tell if that thing is fancy or falling apart.”
I glance out over the top of her head. It’s a large vessel, maybe three times the size of ours, more bulkier in build and a bit newer. Amazingly, I think mine has been better taken care of, by the looks of the paneling and showing wires on the thing. I wonder if it’s airtight. As long as I don’t see anything around here that could be an Amerov vessel, I don’t care.
“Falling apart,” I tell her, and usher them out the airlock before anyone can think to wander our way.
Bat sits on my shoulder, head on a swivel, but despite being stuck in the backpack all day yesterday, he got to run around in the forest enough he wasn’t bouncing off the ship’s walls in the middle of the night. Still, his ears perk at each passing bird.
If the forest here was thick, I wasn’t prepared for how dense the canopy was going to be inside the city itself. The ship yard was more open than this. Sometimes, I catch signs of people up in the trees. If I lived here, I’d probably climb the massive trunks as well. The branches stretch over the tops of the buildings, catching glances of light in the glass of the windows, the light filtering a yellow and green. If I wasn’t stressed by the people and the general situation, I might admire it better.
“I think we need to grow more trees on Neyla Ve,” Anya says, walking along a root half the size of her stretching along the side of the sidewalk.
I wonder how much upkeep they have to do on the buildings so nature doesn’t simply take over.
I’ve never been to Neyla Ve nor have I seen many pictures. I know the majority of the small planet is city, but I wonder if there simply isn’t much greenery to be had. At least, not wild. I’m certain there are precisely maintained gardens. The only way I can picture Yvonne there is if I imagine her as she was on Amethyst.
The third to last orphanage marked out of the planet is the largest we’ve seen. It’s the largest city, after all, and it’s not as if this planet has many. It’s half-hidden by trees so much so I’d think it abandoned if the building itself didn’t appear so new and well-kept. I glance at the windows of the second story and see someone peeking out at us. My eyes aren’t being cooperative enough to give me a good view. Shouts and laughter emanate from the side of the building. Flashes of bright clothing catch my eye as children play among the trees lining the building. I haven’t actually interacted with any of the kids at any of these places, barely even seen any, but this place must be out of school.
I grab the manual handle to the door before Yvonne can suggest something like hey, let’s go talk to the kids. I don’t know how it would help, but it seems like something she would say.
This place is well-lit, with a circular foyer and a bright, lantern-styled light handing from the ceiling that annoys my eyes. No one’s at the front desk, but that’s happened a few times before. The two stairways leading to the second level are empty, the doors closed to the rest of the building. I lean over the desk, but there’s no buzzer to call for anyone. I scan the walls for heat signatures and find none. It’s still early. But the door was open and the kids outside, so it’s not like we’re sneaking in.
Yvonne manuvers Anya to my side and wanders to the nearest door, peeking her head in. I’d probably give someone a heart attack if I did that.
But she shuts it and shrugs, softly calling, “Hello?”
Footsteps from the stairwell, and I glance up to see an older woman with tightly wound hair and a rather serious expression. We’ve had a few friendly people, but I have a bad feeling about this visit already.
Then again, who am I to judge based on grumpy expressions?
I don’t know what I expected, but a small lobby presents itself, with clean gray floors and wooden desks. Stairs lead up to a second level and hallways into the back of the building. I was half expecting to be greeted by a bunch of staring kids, but I know I’m being paranoid.
The young woman at the counter takes one look at me and trots into the back office.
Well, this is a great start.
I’m going to tell Zane his planet pisses me off. He talked me into coming here—and I caved far too easily—so he’s gonna get the harassment.
The scuffed toes of my boots look odd atop the blue circle of carpet against the front desk. I lean against the desk, arms folded. Someone will eventually come back out. I don’t suppose they can call the authorities on me just for walking in the front door. Cyborgs aren’t illegal here. I wonder if a vein pops in Captain’s head every time a planet or even city tries to ban us. I smirk.
A full thirty seconds later, an older woman with grey hair and a shirt that looks like it hasn’t seen a wrinkle in its life rounds. To her credit, she winces less, but the tightening around her eyes is noticeable.
“Can I help you?”
I can tell I’m spending too much time around the siblings when I’m slightly annoyed she doesn’t apologize for her coworker running for it. No one has before, I shouldn’t expect it now.
“I have a bit of an odd request,” I say, trying to sound as harmless as possible, hoping something flippant will loosen her up. How would Lalia talk to these people? “I was wondering if you could look up any of the records for 5635 and any children who might’ve been taken out with the outbreak.”
Her lips visibly pinch at the word fever. I’m sure most people know someone who was affected, if they weren’t themselves.
“I’m sorry, we don’t give out private records.”
Figured it might be something like that.
“I’m just looking for someone, and I don’t need private information.”
She eyes me. I’m being as overly-nice as I know how—which is easier on strangers than the sibling’s parents—so this is likely doubly strange for her.
“Are you a cyborg?” she asks, edging closer to the desk.
I stop myself from grimacing. “Yes.”
“From Amerov?”
I really don’t understand how people keep asking that, but I answer, “Yes.”
“I’ve never seen a cyborg before.”
Oh. That’s why she doesn’t automatically assume I’m unregistered. Never seen one of us? We must be rare as hell here. I suppose there isn’t much reason for our kind to be crawling this planet. If she’s never left her city, it wouldn’t be to strange, I suppose.
She seems to be expecting me to speak, so I shrug. “We’re not that interesting, I promise.”
Eyes flickering over me, she turns the large tablet behind the desk a little more towards her. Maybe I don’t have to have an official request if this woman thinks all cyborgs must be on official Amerov business.
“What’s the name you’re looking for?”
“All we know is first name, ‘Aaron’, and year born was 5624. He seems to have been surrendered to Amerov in 5635 when he was ill.”
Her face pinches as she taps at the tablet. “I was here those years. Awful time. We didn’t have anyone like that, I’d remember. But I’ll check anyway.”
She gives me three separate ‘Aaron’s’ who were sick those years—common name, as I thought—two died that year, one lived and still lives on planet. I consider the possibility whoever gave me over to Amerov lied on my records, but looking at the photos of the three sick boys lets me know I’m not them. None of the features are even remotely correct on a baseline level.
“Thank you for checking. Do you know of any of the other orphanages on this planet surrendering any children to Amerov?” It’s rare, so maybe someone’s heard of it.
She shakes her head, definitely trying to catch a better look at my augmentations under the hood, but at least she isn’t backing away.
“Sorry, I’d remember if I heard something like that.”
Nodding, I thank her again before heading for the door. Not too bad. Pretty painless, actually. Across the street, Yvonne and Anya are visible in the front window of the store.
One down. A few dozen more to go.
We visit perhaps another twenty cities in much the same manner. Land in an inconspicuous place, walk into the city, find the building, go inside, talk to the person at the front. Repeat. Except the sisters go inside with me since Yvonne’s purple eyes are hidden.
We gather plenty of odd looks and a few people who don’t want to talk, but nothing save the same negative results. I don’t know if it comforts me or makes it worse that we’re gathering information that makes the siblings sound correct.
Either way, Anya is having fun. Yvonne buys her any food she points out. When we eventually pause for the night—I’d keep going, but I don’t think anyone’s going to answer doors after dark—she goes back to rummaging in the undergrowth with Bat.
It occurs to me, not for the first time, that Bat’s going to miss the little gremlin a lot more than he’d admit once we have to return them to Neyla Ve. I try not to think too hard about it, especially not about the fact that Yvonne will be gone as well. It’s probably for the best. She’ll get over her weird obsession eventually, and it’s better for me not to be around.
I’ve lost track of the amount of visits we’ve made by the time we land in the city the planet files mark as the capital. Still, it isn’t large, perhaps as large as the city where I found Yvonne on Amethyst. More populated, but about the same size. Less tourism. No rich gamblers.
The forest is thicker here, and after circling the city twice, I’m resigned to the fact I’m not going to find a good place to land among the trees without ripping the paneling off my ship. Grumbling, I head for the nearest ship yard, trying to find the most out-of-the-way one possible, so at least we don’t get too many eyes on us. Parking us down between a few larger ships, next to the line of trees waving softly in the breeze, makes me feel a bit more secure. At least people wandering back for their ships aren’t likely to get too good a look at us. A payment pops up on my ship’s computer—at least I don’t have to look for the person running this place—and I send over the fine. It’s small, and I have plenty of credits now from the little misadventure on Amerov.
It’s weirdly amusing not to have to worry about credits. At least, not for a while.
Anya presses her face to the port window, staring at the closest ship I’ve hidden us behind. “I can’t tell if that thing is fancy or falling apart.”
I glance out over the top of her head. It’s a large vessel, maybe three times the size of ours, more bulkier in build and a bit newer. Amazingly, I think mine has been better taken care of, by the looks of the paneling and showing wires on the thing. I wonder if it’s airtight. As long as I don’t see anything around here that could be an Amerov vessel, I don’t care.
“Falling apart,” I tell her, and usher them out the airlock before anyone can think to wander our way.
Bat sits on my shoulder, head on a swivel, but despite being stuck in the backpack all day yesterday, he got to run around in the forest enough he wasn’t bouncing off the ship’s walls in the middle of the night. Still, his ears perk at each passing bird.
If the forest here was thick, I wasn’t prepared for how dense the canopy was going to be inside the city itself. The ship yard was more open than this. Sometimes, I catch signs of people up in the trees. If I lived here, I’d probably climb the massive trunks as well. The branches stretch over the tops of the buildings, catching glances of light in the glass of the windows, the light filtering a yellow and green. If I wasn’t stressed by the people and the general situation, I might admire it better.
“I think we need to grow more trees on Neyla Ve,” Anya says, walking along a root half the size of her stretching along the side of the sidewalk.
I wonder how much upkeep they have to do on the buildings so nature doesn’t simply take over.
I’ve never been to Neyla Ve nor have I seen many pictures. I know the majority of the small planet is city, but I wonder if there simply isn’t much greenery to be had. At least, not wild. I’m certain there are precisely maintained gardens. The only way I can picture Yvonne there is if I imagine her as she was on Amethyst.
The third to last orphanage marked out of the planet is the largest we’ve seen. It’s the largest city, after all, and it’s not as if this planet has many. It’s half-hidden by trees so much so I’d think it abandoned if the building itself didn’t appear so new and well-kept. I glance at the windows of the second story and see someone peeking out at us. My eyes aren’t being cooperative enough to give me a good view. Shouts and laughter emanate from the side of the building. Flashes of bright clothing catch my eye as children play among the trees lining the building. I haven’t actually interacted with any of the kids at any of these places, barely even seen any, but this place must be out of school.
I grab the manual handle to the door before Yvonne can suggest something like hey, let’s go talk to the kids. I don’t know how it would help, but it seems like something she would say.
This place is well-lit, with a circular foyer and a bright, lantern-styled light handing from the ceiling that annoys my eyes. No one’s at the front desk, but that’s happened a few times before. The two stairways leading to the second level are empty, the doors closed to the rest of the building. I lean over the desk, but there’s no buzzer to call for anyone. I scan the walls for heat signatures and find none. It’s still early. But the door was open and the kids outside, so it’s not like we’re sneaking in.
Yvonne manuvers Anya to my side and wanders to the nearest door, peeking her head in. I’d probably give someone a heart attack if I did that.
But she shuts it and shrugs, softly calling, “Hello?”
Footsteps from the stairwell, and I glance up to see an older woman with tightly wound hair and a rather serious expression. We’ve had a few friendly people, but I have a bad feeling about this visit already.
Then again, who am I to judge based on grumpy expressions?
