“Hell no!” Miller laughed, “The people that live in those mansions now haven’t worked a day in their lives. These stands are run by farmers in the outer reaches. The Dust, they call it. Some of them are owned by the first generation, some are competitors desperately trying to stake a claim. All of them want to rip you off, so don’t talk to them,” Miller lowered to a whisper.
“Got it,” said Dawn. She braced her shoulder against the pounding tide of bodies to keep pace for Launch City. Columns of shimmering window panes climbed up around them. The bustle of foot traffic continued, though sounding quite different through the endless corridors between steel pillars. “Hey, Howard,” Dawn called to the third leg of their trio. He’d hardly batted an eye since they stepped out of the Lunar Pod.
“Hm?”
“How many times have you been through here?” Dawn asked.
“Sixteen,” Howard didn’t hesitate. He still remembered every one of them.
“You haven’t… said much,” Dawn marveled at how nonchalant he was. Howard shrugged.
“My mother used to say that. She also used to say I was… expressively challenged,” Howard told her. He filled his chest with conditioned lunar air to force out, “Regardless of how I seem, I find this place… spectacular.”
“Captain!” a collection of voices called out in different tones and variations. It was a gruff looking sort that trotted from the last ship on the Lunar Launch Pad. It unsettled Dawn to see such a glint of wonder in their baggy eyes at the sight of Rick Miller.
“Welcome back!” a woman clapped a hand to his shoulder.
“Yeah, yeah. You’re all cursing under your whiskey-breath that I’m back to put a damper on things,” Miller chuckled. He threw his arm around the woman and a man who looked like he might have been native Chinese by his golden skin and almond eyes. He turned them around to face Dawn and Howard, along with the rest of his crew. “We have a special guest with us on this flight, ladies and gentlemen. Mr. Howard Carver of the Wellsworth Corporation!” A wave of genuine “woah”s swept across the crowd like an alcoholic breeze. Howard’s lip twitched in a little smirk.
“Pleased to meet you all,” he gave an awkward bow, which set off a distant chuckle from an unidentified crew member.
“And I expect an especially warm welcome for our WCC-approved pilot for this mission. Admiral Dawn Redding,” Miller announced. He stepped aside to put her center-stage. A few renegade claps popped through the crowd of the Arcadia’s disheveled crew. It was just enough to heat Dawn’s cheeks.
“Good,” she straightened herself up and crossed her arms. She pushed her way past Miller and his friends as a show of force, “Looks like you’re all ready to go. Shall we?”
“Ooh, another Spitfire,” she heard someone mumble behind her, with genuine glee. Dawn hid her smirk while she headed for the dropped hatch to the belly of the ship. On the way, she inspected the SS Arcadia closely for the first time.
The ship’s splendor was undeniable, even to someone who wanted as badly to deny it as Dawn. Its frame was made of fusion metal so sleek, it reflected images sharper than their real-world counterparts. Every angle was joined with reinforced, radiant blue glass. Its flanks were adorned with rectangular turbines that were as decorative as they were powerful. Dawn’s head craned back at the splendor while she stepped inside the hatch.
“Hello, Dawn,” a voice surrounded her. Its tone was feminine, but deep. The feeling of a song deep in a cavern stood the hairs up on Dawn’s arm. She looked around for the speaker for all of two seconds until she realized who it was. She gazed straight up, into the underside of the Arcadia. “Hello.” The word came with a breath of light through every vein in the ship’s decorative inner circuitry. It vibrated the souls of more than just her shoes.
“Hello… Arcadia,” Dawn said back.
“Actually, Arcadia is the name of the ship. I’m the resident AI. Calling me Arcadia would be like calling you ‘woman’ or ‘human’. I am the Autonomous Life Including Cognitive Embodiment,” the voice in the metallic deep corrected warmly, “You can call me-
“Arcadia. The ship that stole my first mission,” Dawn scorched. Anger she didn’t even realize had festered until just then flared up inside her. She had given everything for this. Cut ties with her parents by leaving their tiny village for the academy. Sacrificed any chance at a love life with endless hours of study and training. This was supposed to be her shot. Instead, it was a glorified ride-along. Thanks to this ship. She wasn’t going to thank it, and she sure as hell wasn't going to abide by the antiquated ghost in the machine mantra. The ship was the ship, and a traitorous one at that.
“I’m sorry,” Alice rattled through Dawn’s very bones. Her shoes tapped down, frozen. “I kno
w how much your first mission means to you. I… I’m not sure why you’re stuck with me.”
“You don’t understand the first thing about me,” Dawn spat back.
“Now, now,” Miller eased into his ship, one hand on Dawn, one up to the disembodied Alice. “Let’s at least keep the hostility in check until we’re out in on the abyss, unable to escape one another, eh?” he laughed to lighten things. When he saw the lines under Dawn’s eyes just as heavy, he tried, “Alice. This is one of those times we talked about. When people need space?”
“But Captain Miller, how do I give someone space inside the shi-”
“Not now, Alice,” Miller laughed nervously while he watched Dawn stomp further into the ship. “You and I can talk about it later. Everyone in! It’s time to lift anchor!” He belted outside to diffuse the tension. Howard and the others hoisted their bags to follow. Miller chuckled his way into an uneasy head-shake.
“Alright, hit it,” said Miller. He leaned back in his thick-cushioned throne. His left hand clutched a cone-shaped, amethyst glass of liquid. He swished it around for a burning sip while the Arcadia’s bridge gently rocked. A massive, dark screen glinted a reflection of translucent keyboards from around the room over Miller, Dawn, and four other crew members. Dawn clutched the arms of her seat hard enough to sweat for a full three minutes before she realized.
“Wait, was that it?” Cackles erupted all around her.
“You were expecting a countdown? A sound-off with Houston? This is a fusion-tech spacecraft designed for the outerworlds, Admiral. What’s more, it’s the Arcadia. A lone star among those farthest flung,” Miller announced, his drink swaying with his animated arms. “You know that most of the work is done by the SkyLine, anyway. The supermagnets and all. Even a traditional outerworld craft hardly uses any jet fuel. And, like I said, the Arcadia is hardly traditional.”
“Fair enough,” Dawn folded her arms over her thumping chest. If their lift-off had been that smooth, she wondered just how fast they were hurtling through space. If experience showed Dawn anything, it was that a number in a reference book meant nothing in the face of a ship in actual interplanetary motion. A soft piano medley through the ship’s speakers took over as the sole sound in the bridge. Everyone in the crew seemed perfectly content to sit, just like they were in their living rooms, while the Arcadia ripped across the SkyLine - everyone but Dawn. Everything about the situation felt wrong. It was too loose to be a top priority mission.
“How about a little test? To pass the time?” Miller said. It took Dawn a few seconds to realize he was talking to her.