“The fit seems to have passed, but just lie still.”
Star withered from embarrassment to know that Dataran had seen her like this.
“I’m sorry if I offend you by asking this,” Miko whispered, glancing in the direction Dataran had gone, “but … are you an escort-droid, Star-mèi?”
Eyes widening, Star tried to sit up, only succeeding when Miko tucked an arm beneath her shoulders and lifted her. She realized the thought of Miko knowing her secret terrified her, but Miko’s smile was kind. “Don’t worry. I don’t think Dataran has noticed anything, and I won’t tell anyone. You are very … convincing.” Her lashes dipped, and she murmured, “But like recognizes like.”
Star scrutinized her. Like recognizes like. The words repeated in her head, but she couldn’t seem to compute them.
Then Miko reached a hand for the back of her neck, where Star had noticed that strange dark spot a dozen times since her return, always hastily covered up. “I’m not an android,” she said, shaking her head. She cleared her throat and dared to meet Star’s gaze again. “But I am a cyborg.”
Cyborg. The definition was in her database, but Star doubted its accuracy. Miko? Lovely young Miko?
Miko glanced around to make sure no one was near. They had been sitting near the paint booth, which offered a good view of the ship’s takeoff without all the crowds, and no one was paying them any attention.
Sitting back on her heels, Miko pulled up the wide sleeve of her silk kimono. Star watched, mesmerized, as Miko dug her fingers into the flesh of her elbow and began to peel the skin back. A perfect, thin layer of flesh rolled down her am like a tightly knit sleeve, and beneath the skin was a finely crafted arm made from lightweight carbon-fiber polymer, the same material Star’s body was constructed from.
As soon as Star had seen, Miko rolled the skin back into place, rubbing at the synthetic until the edges had merged seamlessly back together.
Gaping, Star pointed to where Dataran had gone.
“He knows,” said Miko. “I told him as soon as … well…” She stared down at her prosthetic hands, now clutched together in her lap. “As soon as I realized that I was falling in love with him. I thought for sure it would put an end to it all. That he wouldn’t want anything to do with me once he knew. But … he isn’t like that, is he?” A happy flush bloomed across her cheeks, but was smothered as she glanced out toward the rows of ships in all stages of incompletion. And down the lane, the Child of the Stars. “Not that it matters. As soon as the ship is done, we’ll be leaving, and nothing will change my father’s mind. I know he thinks it’s for my own good, but…”
Star listed her head, urging her to continue.
“We’re leaving the Commonwealth because he’s afraid that I’ll be selected for the cyborg draft if we stay. I know it’s by random selection, and the odds are so small, and yet he’s convinced that the draft skews toward female cyborgs, and young ones at that. I don’t know how he got this into his head, but … That’s why he bought the ship, why he’s so insistent that they finish it as soon as possible. And when it’s done … I’ll have to say good-bye.”
Star thought she detected a shimmer in Miko’s eye, but it was gone just as fast. “I should be grateful. I know that. He’s going through so much trouble to keep me safe. But I can’t help but feel that I would rather take my chances with the draft, if it means being with Dataran.”
Star looked away. She knew that feeling so well. The pain that jolted through her vertebrae when she walked. The torture of seeing how his eyes latched on to the bright-colored obi that wrapped around Miko’s body. How agonizing it was, this life of silence and yearning.
Yet how very worth it when his eyes found hers, and she could still recall the look of disbelief and gratitude and curiosity that had passed over him when she’d pulled him from the oil tank.
“Here, I usually keep a portable charger with me,” said Miko, pulling her handbag toward her. “Dataran will be back soon, and it will be difficult for me to explain why you aren’t drinking any water unless you seem recovered. Is the receptacle in your neck?”
Star nodded and tried her best to be grateful as Miko opened the panel beneath her ear and inserted the charging cord, but there was something dark lingering still, making her dig her own fingertips into her thighs. An impatience with Miko, a throbbing irritation with her presence.
Ever since she’d returned to the shipyard, Star had thought of Miko’s departure as an ending—and a beginning—and that feeling grew stronger by the day. She was only biding her time until Miko was gone. Then she would buy a new body that didn’t rebel every time she walked, and she would return the locket that contained the whole galaxy to Dataran and explain everything to him. She would tell him that something in his smile had changed her, back when it shouldn’t have been possible for her to be changed. She would tell him that she was the one who had saved his life, because something about him made her unpredictable, and maybe dangerous, and she couldn’t exist in a world without him.
* * *
Star dragged a finger across the screen embedded in the wall, and the lights of the cockpit went dark. She swirled it clockwise; they gradually brightened again. Counterclockwise; they dimmed darker. A tap here to raise the temperature, here to lower it. She tested every command: play music, adjust the air filtration system, seal the cockpit door, heat the cockpit floor, place an order for a beverage through the automated beverage service.
Confident that everything was working just as it should, she shut the panel of wiring beneath the screen and gathered up the tools that she’d used, hooking them neatly into her tool belt. She then paused, preparing herself to walk, before heading toward the ship’s main exit. Her body screamed at her as she walked, and she knew that the exertion was beginning to take its toll on her system. For weeks she had done her best to ignore the pain and the knowledge that sooner or later, her escort-droid body would rebel and reject the installed personality chip altogether, and there were times when she felt she was holding her body together through sheer willpower.
It wouldn’t be long, though, before she could afford a new body. Just a little while longer.
A voice made her foot catch and she paused on the exit ramp. Dataran.
Turning, she peered into the common room that divided the front of the ship from the living areas. An assortment of comfortable seats, accented with silk pillows and cashmere throw blankets, were arranged around a gurgling aquarium that reached from the floor to the tiled ceiling. The brightly colored fish had been brought to their new home a few days before and seemed content to float mindlessly among their artificial coral reef.
Star crept toward Miko’s rooms, her back against the wall, aware that this was not something she would have done when she was Mech6.0. Spying, sneaking, eavesdropping. Androids were not made to be curious.
And yet, there she was, standing beside the doorframe and listening to the hiccupping sounds of a girl crying.
“If we could just talk to your father … show him how much we love each other…”
“He’ll never agree to it. He doesn’t think you could keep me safe.”
Dataran released a disgruntled sigh. “I know, I know. And I couldn’t stand it if anything happened to you either. I just need time … I can get us a ship. It may not be anything like this, anything like what you’re used to, but…”
“That doesn’t matter. I would go”—she sobbed—“anywhere with you. But Dataran…”
“But what?”
Her crying grew louder. “Do you really want to live—your whole life—with a cyborg?”
Star dared to inch closer, shifting her weight so she could peer through the crack between the lavish mahogany doors. These rooms were completed. The ship was almost finished, but for some last detail work in the front end.