Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

Hope slipped back into sleep. She did not wish to, but her body demanded it of her. It was a state of stasis. Even as her body continued to heal, it needed time to recover from the demands that healing placed upon it. Reducing the amount of energy required to sustain her other organs left it with more to devote to the healing process.

As she slid into the semi-conscious state that passed for Aerian sleep, the Tactical Officer's words echoed back to her.

“She will defend this ship.”

Hope was certain that the Star Wing would, perhaps ever surrendering its life, if it believed that Hope's survival required such a sacrifice.

She thought of it hunched in its cell, trapped within the bulkheads of this vessel when it yearned to be free.

Free.

Suddenly, she was within the Star Wing's mind, feeling the exhilaration of soaring free in the space between the stars, feeling the warmth of the radiation of distant suns along its skin, experiencing a sense of purpose—the purpose for which it had been bred and designed for.

Hope sensed its longing, its commitment, its . . . unquestioning loyalty to her and others of her kind. She could see that it formed the very core of the Star Wing's being in a way that made the Star Bloods' obeisance pale in comparison. It disturbed her, even more than the Star Bloods' reverent in-bred devotion had. It felt wrong that this being—a mysterious from a barely-remembered past—should worship her.

Some part of her, though, Hope realized, accepted and, even, experienced satisfaction from it. Hope attributed that to her genetic programming, to her species' hard-coded hierarchical strata. Her rational mind sought to overrule it, to layer reason over bred-in instinct. Even as it did, its grasp on her thoughts faded. As Hope fell into deeper sleep, she felt herself gliding joyously among the stars.

When she awoke, more time had passed than she had expected. Normally, she could control her rest durations with great precision. Her body, she decided, still required more healing than she had thought. That troubled her, for she would not normally make such a misjudgment.

It is the Star Wing, she decided. Her presence distracts me.

She experienced no anger along with the thought. It was merely a statement of fact.

The lighting within the infirmary was dimmed. It was the period of night for the humans, when most of them were no longer performing their duties, but engaged in other activities.

Or in sleep, she realized, as she determined the correct shipboard time.

Her desk contained the single source of bright illumination. At it, a figure sat hunched over its surface. Hope recognized it as Lieutenant Ramsey and wondered whether she had remained there throughout the day without a break. She checked her memory and found a vague impression that the Lieutenant had left briefly, presumably to feed, but had returned shortly and resumed her duties.

Based on the Lieutenant's posture, Hope suspected that she might be dozing at the desk while Hope had slept. If she had been, she roused herself quickly when the monitors indicated that Hope had shifted into a more aware state. Her hands moved quickly over the console. The lights above the diagnostic bed brightened slightly. Hope assumed that Lieutenant Ramsey had done this for the benefit of her Human eyesight, for Hope had no trouble observing the interior of the infirmary in the earlier dimness.

Ramsey rose and moved toward Hope. A soft, gentle smile played across her features, almost masking her fatigue.

“Finally decided to wake up, eh?” Ramsey's inquired lightly, her smile growing slightly brighter as she checked the status displays around Hope.

She apparently found nothing unexpected or amiss as she looked down at Hope. “I was wondering—“.

The Lieutenant was interrupted by the sound of the main hatch opening. Hope turned her head to see the Captain stride briskly through the hatchway. Lines of concern contrasted with the smile that shaped her lips. The Captain traded looks in a silent exchange with Lieutenant Ramsey, who nodded slightly in agreement.

The Lieutenant must have signaled her.

The Captain was dressed in her duty uniform, giving Hope further proof of how long she had remained asleep and unaware. Instead, the Captain wore a pair of light-colored, loose-fitting pants and a gray-blue slightly oversized and well-worn tunic with a faded emblem of the Academy over her left breast.

“Finally feeling better?” The Captain asked lightly, giving Hope a genial smile. Hope heard the strain in the Captain's voice.

“Yes.”

It was true, Hope decided. She was feeling far better now than she had even that morning.

I must not deny myself rest, she cautioned herself for the future.

Despite her conscious will to the contrary, her body had clearly and badly needed the deep rest. She wondered whether Lieutenant Ramsey had somehow managed to sedate her. A quick survey of her internal biochemistry, however, revealed no residual traces to support that theory.

“I hear Lieutenant Hawkes came by,” the Captain said, drawing Hope's full attention back to her.

Something in the Captain's tone told Hope that the Captain was displeased for some reason for the Tactical Officer's visit.

“Yes.”

“I see.” Lines formed around the Captain's mouth as her lips formed a tight line.

“He agreed to free the Star Wing.”

The Captain's eyes both blinked and widened slightly with surprise. She looked toward Lieutenant Ramsey, who silently nodded her confirmation of Hope's statement.

The Captain turned back to Hope. The subtle movements of her eyes told Hope that the Captain was processing this new information, likely inferring that the Tactical Officer had finally determined that the Star Wing was less of a critical threat to the ship and crew than he had originally claimed. Hope saw, though, that some concern remained in the Captain's eyes.

“I'll have to speak with him about that.”

Instead of speaking, Hope only nodded, once. She knew that, even now, the Tactical Officer was most likely completing a full and detailed report of their conversation and the reasoning behind his decision to grant the Star Wing freer access to the ship. Hope was certain, however, that the Star Wing would never be without a Security escort for as long as she remained on the ship.

That realization brought Hope's thoughts to a stop. She had not considered what Star Wing's fate might be if she remained on board the ship. For now, she would be likely to be treated as an honored guest. Were the ship return to Earth, or one of the major human colonies

. . . then what? Worse yet, Hope realized. How will my people react?

While Star Wing was undeniably Aerian, how would their carefully structured society respond when a barely-remembered, nearly legendary, anachronism from their past appeared among them? She would be, as far as Hope knew, unique. The Star Wing would be an object of curiosity, study and, Hope also realized, utterly alone. In this era, there were no others of her kind.

Certainly, Hope knew, once Star Wing's genome had been studied and verified, others of her kind could be created.

But they will be her kind in form only. They will not have shared her experiences or her existence.

Hope settled back against the bed, beginning to wonder whether these thoughts were wholly hers.

Surely, the Star Wing must think these things as well.

“You seem tired.”

The Captain's statement intruded into her thoughts. The lines of concern on the Captain's face deeped.

“I recover.”

The statement, she hoped, would cover for her distracted thoughts.

The Captain's expression eased slightly. “It'll be good to have you back where you belong.”

Her mouth formed a slight smile. The Captain's eyes turned up toward the Lieutenant, giving her a different, brighter and more reassuring smile. The Lieutenant smiled back, although it was not as wide, nor as sincere as the Captain's. Hope suspected that she had missed some underlying subtext in that silent conversation, but she could not perceive what it was.

“Yes.”

It was true. Although her body still needed more rest, she felt an increasing need to do something more than that.

The Captain smiled at her, brightly now, and patted her arm.

“I'll drop by again later,” the Captain told her. “Get some rest. I'll warn the crew to behave themselves in the meantime.”

The Captain's smile held for a moment, and her hand remained in contact with Hope for several more moments before she turned and headed for the main hatch.

Hope watched her go, and then settled back again against the bed. She attempted to clear her mind, to allow rest to return once more, but sleep eluded her for quite some time.