The Passenger Ch. 09

When I walked aft, Anne was sitting at the mess table. She was using the entertainment system's 3D screen as a library display, paging through text at a speed that would challenge any speed reader. It took me a while to make sense of it, but then I understood what I was looking at: a textbook on hyperspatial mathematics. And she wasn't simply paging through it. She was reading it.

But she looked so sad.

Granted, our situation was not exactly cause for a lot of cheer, and I know I wasn't exactly smiling right then, either. But the look on Anne's face was... I'm not sure how to put it. But it scared me.

She paused the readout on the screen and glanced at me, then punched up the next page.

"Anne..."

She hit 'pause' again and looked up.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"Nothing."

"That's bullshit and you know it, my love. Tell me? Please?"

She tried to smile again, failed again.

"It's not... I mean..." she said softly.

"What?"

She hesitated for a moment.

"Do you love me?" she said then. "No matter what?"

I reached out, touched her hand.

"You know I do. And if you don't, you should. So whatever it is..."

"Then let me do this, Harvey."

"Can I help?"

This time her wan smile was a little more real, although just a little.

"Yes. Get me the sweetest dessert the 'kitchen can make, if you would."

"No problem. Comfort food?"

The smile disappeared.

"No."

I shrugged. I didn't quite understand what was going on, but I was beginning to suspect. So if this is what she needed right now, I could do that.

"Alright. One sugar kick coming up."

I scrolled through the autokitchen's menu. Anne had always had a bit of a sweet tooth, if my suspicions were correct, this called for something more serious.

Gram for gram, many foods have higher energy densities than most chemical explosives. I bet you didn't know that, did you? Of course you won't be able to blow up anything with your lunch, because while explosives release their energy in a fraction of a second, food takes many hours to release its energy gradually. Fat packs the biggest punch, but the problem is that fat is not digested quickly or efficiently, and most of it tends to get stored in the body rather than burned. Sugar, or starch which is broken down into sugar as the body digests it, has about half the amount of energy of fat, but the human body burns it a lot quicker and more efficiently. Also, the brain runs on sugar; not on fat. So when it comes to heavy fuel, a combination of sugars and fats is about the best (or, depending on your point of view, the worst) that you can get. It is entirely possible for a chocolate dessert to pack more energy than a plastic explosive.

Por had already told us that Anne's digestive system was partly organic and partly artificial, augmented so it could power her AI brain. My guess was that her brain was using a lot of power right now, and given her predilection for sweeter foods and the fact that she never gained an ounce of weight no matter how much she indulged, it was pretty obvious that sugar played a significant role there. Even the human brain burns uses more energy than the rest of the body combined, unless you're running a marathon. Of course an organic brain derives that energy from the constant supply of glucose and oxygen delivered through the bloodstream, and it generates its energy by oxidizing that glucose right there, in the brain, where the energy is needed. Anne's system would be a little different, but my best guess was that the basic principles of energy production from food were roughly the same.

So this was obviously no time for half measures. Unfortunately the Slowboat's autokitchen has a menu that is quite extensive but not unlimited. So I scrolled through the options and finally decided on something like a Pavlova, but with some tweaks: I told the 'kitchen to soak the cake in sugar syrup and, just for good measure, add a thick layer of chocolate butter-and-sugar glazing on top, with an extra helping of sweetened cream.

The kitchen delivered, and I shuddered when I saw it. Ye gods, what had I wrought? But Anne flashed me a grateful look and tucked right into it, her eyes still fixed on the screen as she continued to work her way though page after page of advanced hyperspace mathematics at a speed that I would have considered completely impossible if I hadn't been looking at her right now.

I sat down and watched her. I couldn't help, and I don't deal well with that sort of thing. Give me things I can fix, and I'm fine in any crisis. Sitting and being unable to do anything constructive, though, is something I'm less good at. But the only thing I could do right now was to be there for her if she needed me, and not get in her way.

It took her about three hours until she blanked the screen. Then she just sat there, staring at it, looking at something only she could see. It was... unsettling. Several times I almost said something, just to make sure she was alright, but I managed to restrain myself. Myself, meanwhile, did all he could to restrain me, and I must admit that while he is a pain in the ass most of the time, we do make a good team.

After a long while her gaze suddenly focused again. She looked worried, scared even, when her eyes found mine. Then, with a "Let's get it over with" expression on her face she got up, walked over to the navigation display and sat down in the pilot's seat.

I followed her and sat down in the co-pilot's chair as she began to punch up the positional data the computer had managed to work out. She looked at the figures for a moment, then keyed for the jump solution entry box. She looked blankly ahead for a few long moments, then confidently entered a series of numbers in a pattern I recognized all to well.

It was a hyperspace jump solution.

"Is the hyperdrive ready to go?" she asked. Her voice was toneless, dead almost.

I nodded.

"It is."

"Then I suggest you take it from here."

She got up and we swapped seats. I ran through a quick check list, got an all-green confirmation from the computer, and keyed for the jump capacitor charge cycle. Behind us, the sublight drive grumbled like a beast woken from a deep sleep. Because it didn't need to generate any thrust this time but could pour its entire energy output straight into the jump capacitor, it only took a few minutes before the computer came up with an 'All ready' status.

"This will get us home?" I asked Anne, more to reassure myself than because I had any real doubts.

"Yes."

"Alright. Here we go."

I punched for the jump sequence. With the familiar unpleasant sensation, space collapsed around us with a silent thunderclap, then turned us inside out. The view ahead changed from stars against the dark of space to the featureless, luminescent dark nothingness of hyperspace.

Anne looked at me, and the despair in her eyes was heartbreaking. I stood up and held out my arms.

"Come here," I said softly.

She stood and stepped into my arms. I held her. She was rigid and tense at first, and I caressed her back as I gently held her against me. But after a while she began to relax, and her body slowly melted against mine. She trembled, then put her arms around me and squeezed me as if she was hanging on for dear life. Then she started to cry.

I held her as her tears soaked through the shoulder of my flight suit and her body shook with her sobs, my hands caressing her back and hair. After a few minutes her crying gradually began to die down. I gently led her to the table where we sat down.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked.

She shook her head.

"Not really," she said, her voice still raw from crying. "I mean, yeah, but I really don't. But, you see, it's..."

"I take that as a definite maybe," I said.

But the smile I'd hoped that would bring didn't come. Her eyes were red; her face was a mess. It hurt me to see her that way. I reached out, and she took my hand in hers. She didn't push it away, but didn't move it to where she might have wanted it, either. When she looked up and her eyes met mine, it was as if a knife twisted in my heart. I couldn't describe what I saw there. She looked... devastated, lost, filled with the ultimate despair and without any hope.

"You saved us," I pointed out. "You did what no other human being could have done."

"Right. No human. That's exactly it," she said softly. "A few days ago I asked you why everyone is so afraid of AI. Now I know."

I took her hands in mine.

"You're looking at it the wrong way, Anne," I said. "So your brain is better than most organic ones. So what? There are races in this galaxy with brains that are much more capable than any human one, or than yours, for that matter. That's not something to be afraid of."

"So you agree that I'm not human."

"The gods in hysterics, woman! That's not what I'm saying at all. I'm saying it doesn't matter! If you weren't human, if you were a machine, like you're trying to convince yourself right now that you are, do you really think you could hurt this much? Do computers feel pain? Do droids feel pain? No, Anne, trust me; you're human. Yes, so you've got implants. Prosthetics, if you will. And yes, some prosthetics can be far more powerful than their organic counterparts. I once knew a guy who had been careless during a mining operation and he had an artificial leg. The damn thing was so powerful, he could kick through hull metal. But nobody was afraid of it, because he was a good guy."

"This is different, Harvey."

"Really? How?"

"I don't know. It just is."

"Not to me. I love you, Anne. And I know you love me. You couldn't feel that way if you were just a machine. Yes, you can do things that I can't. So what? I can do things you can't. Do you think I feel bad about that?"

"I don't know. Do you?"

I opened my mouth, a snappy reply on the tip of my tongue, but she held up her hand, stopping me.

"When I found out..." she said softy. "When I realized what I am, I mean... You know what the worst thing was? It wasn't that I knew. It was that you knew."

I slowly shook my head.

"I'm not sure I follow you," I said.

She thought for a moment.

"I was... waiting for you to start thinking of me as a sex droid," she said finally, her voice so soft she was almost whispering. "A machine. A piece of equipment. I was waiting for you to start treating me as one. And when you didn't, I kept wondering why. And I thought that maybe you just couldn't see it. But now..."

"Now what?" I asked.

"Now you can't help seeing it. Seeing what I really am, I mean."

I squeezed her hand.

"You're right," I said calmly. "I can't help seeing you the way you are. You know what I see? I see the woman I love. I see someone who is not only beautiful but also strong and intelligent and resourceful and not afraid to do whatever needs doing no matter what. The only new thing I've seen just now is that you're also a savant. You can do the sort of thing that only few human beings are capable of. That's rare, I'll grant you that. Some people have a perfect memory. Some can do ridiculously complex calculations in their heads in a few seconds. Some speak every language they've ever heard. Some can do even weirder things. But those people are few and far between, so you're pretty unique, I'll give you that much. But if anything, that only makes me admire you more. You're an amazing person, Anne, and I love you. I love you because I see you for what you are, and you're wonderful."

"The sun does definitely not shine out of my ass, Harvey."

"No," I admitted. "That would be too much to ask. As it is, your ass is pretty damn awesome and I like it a lot, but to have the sun shine out of it would be overdoing it just a little."

Her smile was wan and a little tired, but at least it was a real one.

"I'll work on it," she said.

I shook my head.

"You're missing the point," I said. "You're perfect just the way you are."

Her face turned sad.

"No... I'm not. And they'll know."

"Who?"

She shrugged.

"Everyone. They'll know. What I am, I mean. They just will."

I shook my head.

"Nobody will know. Whatever there is to know, and there isn't much. Hell, even I didn't know, Anne. If it weren't for what happened on Ursa, I still might not have known. We'd been intimate for quite a while and I still had no idea. If I hadn't seen what Brax and Pete did to you at Vergence, I probably wouldn't have believed it."

I chuckled.

"You know what?" I continued. "If you tell anyone that you're really a super-woman with cybernetic enhancements and a brain so powerful it can square a circle in under a second, they'll just laugh at you. All they'll think about is why someone as gorgeous as you would feel the need to make up such grandiose fantasies about herself, I guarantee it. If it weren't for the fact that spaceport security officials use all sorts of electronic detection devices, we'd never have had to bother with Por's magical potions in the first place."

That got a small chuckle out of her.

"We would have missed a lot of fun that way," she said.

I nodded.

"Yes, we did have fun and we're going to have much more of it. But not right now. You're emotionally wrecked, and I'm pretty exhausted as well. So grab a quick shower, and when you're done I'll do the same. It will all make more sense in the morning."

While she did as I had suggested, I keyed up the entry in the autokitchen that I had saved there a few weeks ago, and a few moments later it produced the bowl of warm oil I wanted. I took it into the cabin, moved the bedding aside and put a towel on the bed. A few minutes later Anne emerged from the shower, her skin glowing and damp. She smiled gently when she saw my preparations.

"You're a genius," she said, giving me a quick kiss before lying down on her stomach.

"Don't let anyone find out," I joked.

"Your secret is safe with me."

I knelt beside her on the bed and paused for a moment to admire the view spread before me: her delicately chiseled shoulders, the curve of her waist, the swell of her hips, the smoothly flowing lines of her thighs and calves, and the glorious lines of her butt. Oh, those delicious curves...

"Don't get distracted now, Harvey," I said to myself. Myself agreed.

I put both my hands on her shoulders, my palms lightly touching her skin, feeling the tension there. I slowly moved my hands down across her upper back, her shoulder blades, her spine, as I charted the pattern of tension with my fingertips. I'd been right: this was just what she needed.

I dipped my fingers into the bowl of warm oil and gently spread it across her shoulders and upper back. Then I began to work on the knots I found there, gently rubbing, pressing, squeezing, applying a little more pressure here and there...

It took a while, but gradually some of the tension flowed out her. I applied a little more pressure on her shoulders, a little less on either side of her neck, slowly working my way down her back; applying some more oil, firmly squeezing or gently caressing, depending on what my fingers found there, and my hands left her more and more relaxed as they moved on. Her lower back needed more work than I had initially thought, but that was fine. We had all the time in the universe.

Her breathing gradually slowed and became more regular. I knew she was still awake, but a good massage puts you right into that zone between being fully awake and dozing off. That's where I wanted her, and that's where she was right now.

Eventually my hands reached her butt. She made no sound, but she breathed a little deeper as my palms and fingers explored the soft yet firm and beautifully shaped flesh there, and I had to talk rather sternly to myself to avoid getting distracted. Myself sighed regretfully, but agreed with me that this was for her and not for me, and somehow I managed to stay focused, difficult though it was. No marble statue ever had a smoother surface, more achingly beautiful curves or more arousing proportions.

Keeping my touch halfway between a firm squeeze and a light caress, my palms followed the curves of her lovely buns as I worked on her muscles, kneading and squeezing as necessary. When I was done there, I didn't linger, and only the gods know how tempted I was.

Moving on to the back of her thighs, I found more tension in her leg muscles than I had expected, but then again, she'd been through a hell of a time. I applied some more oil to her skin before I started to work on her legs. Gradually the tightness subsided and by the time I reached her calves, I felt her relax more and more.

Then I gradually worked my way back up again, but this time my touch was lighter. I kneaded her muscles more gently and I moved more slowly. By the time my hands reached the back of her thighs again, her breathing had begun to deepen once more, and she made a small sound when my fingertips almost accidentally brushed the insides of her thighs. My hands were slowly rubbing her skin by now, rather than kneading the muscles underneath. Further up they moved, until they reached the swell of her butt.

This time I did linger there, and that smooth, firm, yet soft and pliable flesh filled my palms in a wonderful way as they moved to trace those glorious curves, up and down, then circling their roundness; gently pressing them together, then moving them apart to reveal the little puckered hole that was hidden there, and my fingertip slowly ran up and down the cleft between her buns ever so lightly. She moaned softly and took a deep breath that came out as a content sigh.

She didn't resist when I moved her legs apart a little, just enough to give me access, and on its next run through the valley between those lovely hills my tracing fingertip didn't stop when it reached the lower end of that tempting rift. It kept going, finding its way between her thighs, until it touched the puffy lips of her pussy, already moist. She twitched gently at the contact.

I continued to rub her butt, the back of her legs, the insides of her thighs. Occasionally my fingertips would brush against her pussy lips, which had begun to flower open; her moisture beginning to pool between them. She sighed again, more deeply, and this time it was almost a soft, dreamy moan.

Keeping one hand on her butt, my middle finger nestled in the cleft between her buns, I moved the other one down, deliberately homing in on her hot, moist center. My fingertip traced the opening between her pussy lips, finding them increasingly slick with her juices as I moved along. Finally I reached the bottom end of her pussy and found her little button, which was already hard. She moaned softly when I touched it ever so lightly. I spread some of her thick, rich nectar across its tip and began to caress it, moving the tip of my finger around it, then over it, moving in slow, tiny circles. She moaned softly, and her breath came faster now.

I moved my hand from her butt down and between her thighs as well, and I began to caress her pussy lips with my index and middle fingers, gently stroking up and down. My other hand dropped a little further until my thumb found its way to her entrance and slowly began to work its way inside her. That put my index and middle finger on either side of her clit.

Working with both hands in concert, I began to massage her there, slowly, gently, my thumb inside her, moving in and out of her opening; my fingers stroking along her clit and up and down across her pussy lips. She moved slightly, and I felt her inner heat rise and the flow of her nectar increase.

She began to moan, still softly but more frequently, as I continued my ministrations. I gradually applied a little more pressure as my thumb and fingers were lubricated by her juices. She began to squirm a little, and her soft moans sounded a little more insistent now.