“Good evening, Lisa.” Sarah kept her voice clipped, controlled. The effect was only slightly spoiled by James floating across the table in pursuit of a rogue sphere of scotch, hovering in front of the camera like a tiny, alcohol-fueled world. “My name is Sarah, I represent the Galley Corporation. We’re here to offer you a job.”
Leslie waved cheerily. “I just wanted to say hi, but what she said as well.”
Lisa paused for a brief moment, looking into the screen. “Hello Sarah. I’m Lisa Jaeger… I guess you already knew that, though.” She paused, looking at the other two. “And hey Leslie. Hey James. A job, huh? Well, that sounds interesting…”
Leslie glared at Sarah for a moment, rubbing her forehead in exasperation. “Not much of a job offer, actually. James here was just bemoaning his life choices and I offered him a job on my ship. The same offer is extended to you.”
“It’s worth considering.” Sarah took a sip of the scotch, grinned around the straw, and promptly pulled a face. Scotch hadn’t exactly been a common commodity in her circles lately. She shook her head, blinked it off. “If only out of concern for Leslie’s safety. She keeps flying this bird solo, she’s likely to kill someone. Not me, and probably not her, but someone.”
“Roadkill…” Leslie murmured. “Spacekill?”
James waved once at the screen before getting back to his scotch, still speaking around the straw. “Hey, Lisa. Apparently I was bemoaning my life choices, but the offer’s interesting enough regardless… I’ve politely declined thus far, though. I dunno how you feel about it, but it’d be nice to have a place to go if we decide to leg it.”
Lisa pursed her lips into a slight frown. “This is kind of a lot to think about, you know? I mean, I’ve been working for the Navy and a few… other clients, and I need to be able to keep doing that.”
She glanced around. “I’ve gotten used to working on my own out here, I guess. With what I do, I need to be able to focus. It’s not really… collaborative.”
Lisa paused, shrugging slightly. “But… I wouldn’t mind working with you guys. Just… moving? I’m not sure…”
James waved her off before she could finish the sentence. It was subtle enough, but the scotch was getting there now. It was in how he moved, slightly more flourishing and exaggerated than usual.
“You know, Lisa, you raise a very valid point. I think we’re overqualified. I’m gonna have to suggest Leslie up the ante with at least a decent retirement package. Or maybe free dental?”
Leslie snorted incredulously. “I am overqualified for this. And Sarah has worked on Dreadnoughts or something absurd like that, so we’re all in the same boat.”
“Cruisers, actually.” Sarah corrected.
“Same difference,” Leslie retorted. “In all honesty, I didn’t expect you two to take that offer up. You have your own jobs. But we can certainly get together if needed.” She smiled faintly. “Besides, someone needs to drag Lisa out of her basement once in a while.”
James smirked. “Tried that a couple of times, moderate success. I think she enjoys getting out and about more than she lets on. Though, maybe some of my stories have turned her away from certain exotic spots.”
“Why do I get the feeling your definition of ‘exotic’ involves warheads moving at an appreciable fraction of c?” Sarah cocked an eyebrow and grinned across the table.
James frowned slightly. “Well, warheads have been involved in these stories, yeah. Least of my worries, too.” He sipped some more whisky, clearly not eager to describe this in further detail.
“To be fair, James… I wasn’t anywhere near the paths of those warheads most of the time in those stories,” Lisa responded. “I was safe in my basement, as Leslie indicated.”
James shrugged. “At least I get some fresh air. Some of the time.”
“If this qualifies as fresh, I’m the Queen of Bretonia. I really need to get in there and change those filters one of these days.” Sarah glanced up at the Galley’s ventilation systems, fans spinning lethargically in their mountings like overweight and slightly-drunk ballerinas. She frowned towards Leslie. “Do we even have spare filters aboard?”
“We could pay for them out of your salary, if you like.” Leslie’s smile was angelic.
“On second thought, I like the air.” Sarah backpedalled. “It’s got...Er… Character. Like an ancient, unswept church.”
“Or a tomb,” James offered helpfully.
Leslie immediately reached across the table and smacked him in the head. “You’re slipping, James. The skeletons are gonna dance out any moment now.”
James just smiled, blithe as blithe could be. “I don’t think so, I am imbued with the powers of being slightly drunk. Your anemic smacking does not compel me.”
“I’ll show you bloody anemic,” Leslie started to rise again.
“Woah, woah.” Sarah extended a palm each toward James and Leslie, bulb left floating before her. “No fighting in the mess. Save that for the cargo bay. I can just vent the bits of teeth afterwards.”
“I could probably do that from here, to… y’know… save you the trouble,” Lisa said, smirking into her screen.
James sniggered. “And people call me violent? They should see the two of you after just a mild round of taunting.”
“People call you violent?” Sarah raised a hand to her mouth in mock surprise. “The mind boggles.”
“It’s true though. The Pope is going to canonize him as a Saint soon. Saint Arland. It does have a nice ring to it,” Leslie quipped.
“Patron saint of guns and nanosuits? I could see it.” Lisa said.
“Blessings, sanctifications and… confessions are fifteen credits a pop. Get them while they’re fresh. Hey, Leslie, how do you feel about being sanctified?” The officer said, a wry grin on his face.
“I don’t know…” Leslie trailed off.
“I think that’s how you end up breaking a religion.” Sarah supplied. “I dunno if a Leslie free from sin is a Leslie I can share this boat with.”
Leslie raised both eyebrows in mock surprise. “Excuse me? I’ve never sinned in my life!”
Sarah snorted. “Pass the scotch, Captain Holier-Than-Thou.”
“My sainthood was brief, but eventful,” James said, already wistful.
“Truly, it was a golden age.” Sarah reclined in her chair, legs drifting a half-foot above the table, and waved toward the screen. “You had devotees across the entire sector. The Church of St Arland will be dearly missed by clubgoers everywhere.”
Leslie laughed heartily. “Except the Church of St. Arland carries on, Sarah.” She leaned towards her conspiratorially. “It’s called the Liberty Navy. Lovers of guns and strip clubs. A mighty institution.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Lisa commented. “Seen enough of that in my short tenure there to understand why James fits right in.”
Leslie looked around, content in a friendly reunion. “We should all get together at some point again, soon. Sakuma has been making noises about not being able to properly thank us for what we did…” Her eyes twinkled with amusement. “Party on the Kokutai Fund?”
“About that.” Sarah coughed, took a sip of her drink, suddenly aware of the camaraderie in the room, and uncertain where she fitted into it. “I didn’t really have anything to do with that, so I totally get it if you want me to wait on the ship or something.”
James chuckled, obviously finding the idea meritorious. “Bumrush the Admiral, drinks are on her? Sounds about right, I haven’t even received a commemorative katana for the event yet. Could have at the very least have sent one of those late night advertisement knockoffs.”
Sarah raised an eyebrow. “Do you know how to use a katana?”
“No, but they hand the things out like candy. Might as well get one for the mantlepiece. In a “I-rescued-an-admiral-and-all-I-got-was-a-sharpened-bit-of-steel” kind of way.” James strapped himself back into his seat, having gotten a little too dizzy for further zero-gravity shenanigans.
“Want to get me a set of nunchucks while you’re at it?” Sarah shrugged, the motion nudging her a little closer to the ceiling. “I never got where those things are coming from. I mean, the Imperial Navy must have a factory or something somewhere. Like, serious question here. If I went into a room in Kusari and asked how many people had a katana, how many hands do you think’d go up?”
“All of the hands?” Lisa said, only halfway phrasing it as a question.
“All of the hands!” Sarah clapped, nearly careened into the roof, and promptly stopped clapping. “Someone give that woman a medal. Or a katana.”
James laughed. “They hand those out like candy too, unsurprisingly.”
“Hands?” Sarah frowned. “I mean, I’m a little more worried about where they’re getting those.”
“Medals, Sarah. Careful with the fans, by the way. I do believe you’re getting drunker than is safe in a spaceship environment!” James gestured towards her, slightly sloppy-looking.
“I’m fine.” Sarah spread both hands to her sides, as though that resolved the issue. “Perfectly balanced, see? It’s okay. I’ve got someone else to fly me home. Leslie, you’ll fly me home, right?”
Sarah nodded, sage-like at the answering silence. “See. Leslie’ll fly me home. It’s fine.”
Lisa smiled slightly. “And here I am without anything to drink. But I do happen to have an AI to fly me home if I - hypothetically, of course - needed her to.”
In the meanwhile, Leslie had drifted off to sleep, unnoticed by her compatriots so far.
James piped up. “Oh, me too. I can’t be the only one who doesn’t quite understand how JADEs instancing works, though. I mean, do all the instances kind of talk together to form a core consciousness? Or do they all just kind of exist separately on different machines?”
Lisa grinned. “Yes.”
“Stupid compsci bulls*** answers,” James groaned.
“You guys are running AIs?” Sarah frowned down on them from somewhere above the table. “You actually trust those things?”
“Someone said AI?” Leslie looked up, one eye open.
“I trust JADE, at least,” Lisa said. “I did build her, after all.”
Leslie blinked and then grinned as understanding set in. “Oh, JADE? She’s fine. Or it. Whichever. I’d like one too.”
“Come on.” Sarah rolled her eyes. “‘I built it’ isn’t exactly sound reasoning for something that thinks. I think my parents tried to pull that one once or twice.”
James prodded his comms device. “Hey, JADE? You’ll only hurt people we tell you to, right?”
“That is correct, James,” the AI responded, synthesized voice coming through his comm.
“See? Not creepy at all,” Arland said.
“Gee. Thanks.” Sarah was face-up now, staring at the strip lighting on the ceiling. “The creepy robot just reassured me it wouldn’t try to kill us all. I feel so much safer now.”
Leslie waved dismissively. “Shut up Sarah. JADE has saved our butt a bunch. Now if only Lisa would give me an ‘instance’ or whatever the hell it’s called…” Her gaze glided over to Lisa as she said this.
James cut in, supremely unhelpful at this point. “If that’s not reassuring enough, at her inception stage, JADE was in fact programmed with some of my own core values in mind - oh, we’re all screwed aren’t we?” A look of mock horror gripped the operative.
“On second thought, I don’t need that instance,” Leslie said.
“Uh, not so much ‘core values’, more just ‘personality elements’,” Lisa chimed in. “Actually… Leslie’s still right.”
“Although I could still use some sort of VI to help me fly the ship, Lisa,” Leslie continued, trying not to look at Arland suspiciously.
“Jokes aside,” James cut in, suddenly a little self-conscious in so far as he’d essentially admitted to being a terrible person, “I think it’s about time I got off this boat before I get so drunk that I can’t float myself through the docking tube.”
Leslie had unstrapped herself from her chair, and started floating towards Sarah with the intention of dragging her tall form back to ground. “Duty calls, James?” She said.
“Something like that,” He said as he unbuckled the straps holding him in place and stretched - dragging his form out to its full length. “It’s been fun, though. Lisa, I’ll talk to you soon. Leslie, mind seeing me off to the cargo hold, at least?”
“Sure.” After making sure her engineer was safely oriented with respect to the ground, with only a handful of muttered protests, Leslie floated over and waved at Lisa’s hologram. “It was good to see you after all this time, Lisa.”
She squinted at the screen. “Do try to fix up a VI for my ship if you get a spare moment. It’ll help me out a ton.”
“Fun, indeed,” Lisa said. “Make sure you all get home safe. And we can talk about doing an instance of JADE for your ship sometime, sure.”
She smiled, and then cut the connection.
Leslie slapped Arland on the shoulder. “Right, let’s get a move on big boy.” She smiled at him. “Thanks for making the time to come see us.”
James smiled back, groggily. “Hey, no problem. We all need some time off, you know?” With that, he floated down the access corridor, scowling slightly at the painting of the angry bear. “Man, that’s just strange,” He paused to add before floating along.
Behind him, Leslie shrugged. “Curse has weird taste in art. Who knew?”
"This is really sort of a personal project of mine."
- James Arland, on single-handedly engaging an enemy regiment.
