The Travels of Scout Shannon: Books 4-6

Chapter 23

23

Scout woke to the sound of the dogs crunching something. She sat up to find herself alone on the couch, the dogs nowhere in sight. She followed the sound of their chewing until she found them behind the cabinet that separated the kitchenette from the little dining area. There was a little nook inside that cabinet, and inside the nook was a small bowl of water standing under its own little spigot and another trough-like bowl filled with kibble. The dogs looked up at her, clearly delighted by the kibble, both tails wagging madly as they ate.

Scout found bread and a toaster, and while the smell of browning bread filled the air, she gathered up her now-dry clothes and carried them back into the bathroom.

The sun outside looked the same as it had when she had shut her eyes, and yet she suspected she had slept the night through to the next morning. She felt that rested, and the clothes felt that dry.

The clothes were not things she had picked out herself and were not really to her taste. She liked the pockets on the shoes and the scarf was pretty to look at, but Scout wasn’t really into bright colors. And the jumpsuit was just awkward to wear; she had to get most of the way out of it every time she used the bathroom.

She looked again at the stacks of clear clothes, pants, and shirts, as well as smaller things that she took for underwear and even the outline of transparent shoes on the bottom of the closet. Clearly, this was technology she didn’t understand.

But she could figure it out with a bit of help, couldn’t she?

She looked back down at the marshal belt.

Well, she had a question. Scout took the lens out of its pouch and put it over her eye. “Hello, Teacher,” she said.

“Hello, Scout,” the gray form said. “Have you chosen a name for me yet?”

“Not just yet,” Scout said. “Can you explain these clothes to me?”

“They are smart clothes,” the form explained. “They will adjust to your size, and the tailoring can also be adjusted to your preferences. You lack the necessary implants to command the nanites yourself, but I can do it for you. What would you like to wear?”

“Does it have to be red?” Scout asked.

“No. I can make them any color or pattern you like,” the AI said.

“There aren’t rules?”

“While you are technically a Tajaki trade dynasty employee, you do not have a direct reporting relationship with Bo Tajaki and therefore have complete autonomy in this matter,” the AI said.

“Can you make them look like my old clothes?” Scout asked.

“Certainly,” the AI said.

“Pockets and all?” Scout asked.

“Certainly,” the AI said. “I can even return your hair to its more normal configuration.”

“Wait, what?” Scout asked. She had been taking a pair of pants and two shirts out of the cabinet for the AI to transform but froze with the clothes clutched tight in her hands. “You can do what to my hair?”

“There is a bottle in that cabinet there,” the AI said, its gray form gesturing to a smaller cabinet near the shower. “Bo had it left there in case you wanted to use it. It will remove the chemical coloring from your hair and stimulate the growth. Your hair will be as long as you wish by tomorrow morning.”

“That’s crazy,” Scout said.

“It’s quite common at galactic central. The trendy types change their hair daily.”

“How does it work?” Scout asked, holding the bottle in her hand. There was no label, no instructions.

“Just rub it all over your hair like you’re washing it,” the AI said. “That will take out the color right away when you rinse it out. Rub it into your scalp briskly to stimulate the growth.”

Scout stepped into the shower and did as the AI had told her. When she stepped back out of the shower, it did feel like her scalp was tingling, but that could just be from rubbing it so vigorously.

Then she saw her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was once more honey blonde, just like her mother’s had always been.

The clothes had already configured themselves. The AI had left the pants full length rather than reproducing the shorts Scout had always worn, but that made sense since she was always so cold in space.

The important thing was the pockets. She filled every one, then buckled the belts around her hips.

The AI had also modified her inner shirt from a sleeveless tank top to a warmer mock turtleneck in black.

Her outer shirt—which had for years been her father’s old shirt and more recently been a newer model of the same general design, but still a Planet Dweller garment—was now like the shirt Warrior had been wearing when they met. Shimmering white, soft as a wisp of cloud.

“You are really good at reading my mind,” Scout said.

“You’re not sure if you like that or not,” the AI said. “You are wise to be wary of technology like me. I think we are going to have an easy time bringing your education level up to that of your peers. You are a fast learner.”

“Thanks?” Scout said.

“Your shoes are just there,” the AI said, pointing with one shapeless gray limb.

“I hadn’t even thought of what those should be,” Scout said.

“I made a guess,” the AI said as Scout picked up a pair of canvas shoes much like the ones Emilie had given her, with high tops and small pockets on the ankles. But these were a dark brown, a better match with the rest of the outfit. “Cool,” Scout said, looking at herself in the mirror again.

She looked older than she expected. But then, she couldn’t exactly remember the last time she had spent more than a glance looking at herself in a mirror. She touched the hair already falling past her eyebrows.

“It seems so frivolous,” Scout said.

“The technology is used to serve all sorts of ends,” the AI told her. “Some frivolous, you are correct, but some dangerous and some lifesaving.”

“I suppose,” Scout said.

“I’m here to teach you all about it, with the hopes that you will learn how to use it for good,” the AI said.

“That’s what Bo wants?” Scout asked.

“Yes, but it’s also a matter of my basic programming,” the AI said. “That is my function: to educate my students and guide them to be their best selves.”

“So if Bo were keeping secrets from me, something bad, you would tell me?” Scout asked.

“Certainly,” the AI assured her.

“And if he was trying to do something bad and I wanted to stop him, you would help me?”

“In any way that I could.”

“But for all I know, you could be programmed to say that to put me at ease,” Scout said miserably.

“Hopefully the circumstance doesn’t come up where we have to prove it one way or another,” the AI said. “In the meantime, trust your feelings. Your gut instinct is your best guide.”

“Yeah,” Scout said, then glanced back at the gray form. Was it starting to take on a more defined shape? Certainly the voice was starting to sound more like a familiar one. Or was she imagining it because, more than anything in the universe, she wanted to hear the voice that had always given her the truth, even when she hadn’t wanted to hear it?

“Scout?” the AI said.

“Yeah?”

“Have you chosen a name for me?”

“I think I might have,” Scout said. “I think I want to call you Warrior. Is that weird, or inappropriate or something?”

“I don’t think so,” the AI said. “I know she was very important to you. You already named your dog after her.”

“That’s true,” Scout said. “But I think I want to call you Warrior. I miss her voice. But don’t try to imitate her too much; that would be creepy.”

“How’s this?”

Scout looked up at the AI, which was no longer a gray form. She looked something like Gertrude Bauer, but not exactly. She had the same thick braid of copper-colored hair, but her indigo-blue eyes weren’t hidden behind reflective lenses. Plus, she was dressed comfortably in leggings and tunic and a long, bulky cardigan with oversized pockets. Like a teacher, not like a marshal.

And it was all in red.

“Are you considered a Tajaki employee?” Scout asked.

“Not technically,” the AI Warrior said. “I can choose my own outward appearance. I thought it was important for you to remember I’m not exactly your friend, and you should always think twice about trusting what I say. Even though I’ll never lie to you.”

Her voice was Warrior’s voice, without the ever-present sardonic edge.

“Just don’t call me ‘kid.’ That was her thing,” Scout said.

“Understood, Scout,” Warrior said. “Bo left you one last gift, in that drawer there.”

Scout looked where the AI was pointing and slid open a drawer filled with glasses of all shapes and sizes, some with clear lenses like Emilie wore but others with dark lenses or reflective ones like the lens she had over her right eye.

“You’ll find it easier to interact with me with two lenses,” Warrior said. “If nothing here is quite to your taste, we can have something made to your specifications.”

“No, I’m not picky,” Scout said, reaching into the drawer and choosing a pair of round lenses in wire frames. The lenses were reflective like the one she was wearing, but smaller, and with the frames she wouldn’t have that sucking sensation on her cheeks every time she put them on.

She gave herself one last look in the mirror. There was a rush in her belly, something like déjà vu but not exactly. It was like for the first time in her life she was really seeing herself, like her outside matched her inside. Which was strange. But she felt so sure.

Scout walked out of the bathroom to check on the dogs and Warrior followed behind her. The dogs were sprawled on their backs in the grass, writhing with tongues lolling as if the feel of grass on their back and fake sun on their bellies was the best thing ever.

“They’ll be fine here if you want to take a stroll around the ship,” Warrior told her. “I can answer any questions you have about the ship and the people here.”

“I would like to do that,” Scout admitted.

Scout slipped out the door without the dogs noticing, then looked up and down the hallway, not sure where she wanted to go. She decided to go to the left, completely at random, and started down that direction.

“So is that how this education thing is going to work? You just answer questions?” Scout asked. She pitched her voice low, aware that anyone who passed her in the hall would think she was talking to herself.

“That is an important part of it,” Warrior said. “We will have to make time for more formal instruction, starting with a series of tests so I can grasp where you are on all subjects. But perhaps that should wait until we arrive at galactic central and you are feeling more settled.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” Scout said. She felt a sweat breaking out all over her body just at the word ‘test.’ She was guaranteed to fail, and she wasn’t looking forward to the experience. “So, people live behind all these doors?” she asked by way of changing the subject.

“Certainly.”

“Families?” Scout asked.

“Not as such. A few married couples are stationed on this ship, but no one with children,” Warrior said.

“But I saw kids before,” Scout said.

“Those are orphans that Bo Tajaki has taken in,” Warrior told her.

“There are a lot of them,” Scout said.

“They live in dormitories and attend a school during the day,” Warrior said.

“Are any of them my age?” Scout asked.

“They range in age from ten to fourteen years,” Warrior told her. “But most are within six months of their twelfth birthday.”

“Pretty specific grouping for orphans, isn’t it?” Scout asked. She had a bad feeling, and she didn’t think she was just being paranoid. Bo had sworn there were no assassins on his ship, but she couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling.

She had good reason to be wary of twelve-year-olds. Three had tried to kill her only a few days before.

It felt like a lifetime ago.

Warrior was saying something else, some sort of explanation on the age of the children, but Scout missed it because as she turned a corner, she nearly collided with a woman walking at a fast clip. Scout stumbled and reached out to grasp the woman, to be sure she didn’t knock her down or fall down herself, and was already half mumbling an apology for not looking where she was going.

But the woman slipped away before Scout could catch hold of her, stepping back and standing in what looked like a fighting stance. She didn’t seem aggressive, just like someone who had so much training she just stood that way whenever she avoided being knocked over. Without that arm to catch hold of, Scout tumbled into the wall, but she quickly pushed herself back upright and spun to look at the woman.

She had been familiar.

The woman smiled at her, winked, and then turned and continued on her way at that same fast pace, never looking back at Scout.

Now Scout’s heart was hammering so hard in her chest she could see her pulse beating in the corners of her eyes.

That had been the woman who had pushed Seeta out of the hangar, who had killed Sparrow’s brother Hal, who had been the leader of the organization that had killed so many of Geeta and Emilie’s friends.

And she was here, strolling the halls like she owned the place?

And she had looked right at Scout, recognized her, and just left her standing in the hall. As if seeing Scout here was not unexpected and was certainly not alarming.

What was going on?