The stateroom was messy, clothes were strewn on the floor and among the sheets.

Clara sat naked on Parasite's lap. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and she hung backwards, away from him. The surface of his thighs was made from beige plastic plates with holes cut in a grid pattern, and Clara's skin chafed. Below the plates were the actuators that allowed him to walk or stand or sit, the tight black fibers and articulating pistons clearly visible.

His groin was decorated with a neon-green penis, erection fading, dripping and spent. Synthetic skin covered his crotch, contrasting sharply with the electronics nearby. Clara looked down at Parasite's torso and could see the workings of the equipment through a plastic-rimmed cavity where his stomach should have been. Tiny hydraulic pumps worked to move fluid into and out of expansion chambers; a small port contained a spent cartridge of surrogate ejaculate. If the cartridge had been filled with natural seminal fluid, the equipment could be used to achieve pregnancy. The equipment was top-tier, and used by aging males to replace certain feelings of inadequacy.

Clara's thighs glistened with her own wetness. Parasite knew she smelled like sex, but the true experience of the scent eluded him. Smiling, she placed a kiss tenderly in the middle of Parasite's forehead, where a plastic plate met a portion of synthetic skin. Her breasts and arms glowed with the sweat of pleasant exertion, contrasting with her lover. Her sweat covered him, glimmering droplets transforming into sticky streaks.

Parasite's hollow chest was dry, cold and clean, more pumps ticking and churning. Clara's eyes washed over four tubes racing with purple liquid, routed through an oxygen exchanger, through the exoskeleton of Parasite's neck, and into his head. She shivered slightly at the appearance of his vital fluids, so exposed. She wished he hadn't removed the cosmetic covering.

Wistfully, almost a whisper, Clara spoke. "I thought you'd like it. I want to feel like this wasn't just for me."

Parasite stroked Clara's spine, his eyes traced the shape of a Shenyuan demon tattooed on her chest. "I feel... I'm ok with this. Don't worry about it."

One side of Clara's smile fell, her head tilted forward, and her eyes matched Parasite's. "Maybe if you didn't try so hard to remind yourself of what you're made of? It doesn't matter. Not to me, at least, and if it doesn't matter to me, it doesn't matter, ok?"

Parasite shrugged, and stroked her hair. The tips of his fingers came away damp, and he reached behind his neck, and gently unclasped her hands. Clara let one leg slide down off Parasite, until her sock-covered foot found the floor. The communicator squawked again. The reconstruction was complete. Marshe would be expecting a report soon.

She reached the corner of room and her arms reached upwards towards two handles. The handles came down and clear plastic dropped from the ceiling. Water poured from a metal ring at the top of the plastic curtains and Clara washed herself while Parasite watched. After a moment, he rinsed himself with a cloth before dressing.

The water drained into the wall in the corner of the room, and flowed off to the ship's recycling system. The curtains rose up, and Clara found a plush towel, dried herself, and dressed as well.

***

"I can't believe you did that." Layla scolded.

Arius replied, aghast. "What? Got us off that rock before you had a tantrum and ruined it?"

Layla spun on the heels of her bare feet. "You know what I mean. That wasn't your decision to make, offering my help to the Quorum."

"What was I supposed to do? You said it already. If Ina gets to the Dragon before you, you're dead. Now you have a shot at preventing that."

"Ok, fine. So I've got to kill my two-time rescue-bot now if I want to survive."

"Think about this for a few seconds. She had initiative then. Out here, you could make friends with her again, or you could put her out an airlock. Listen, I don't think she cares what happens to the Dragon. Her sister wasn't on that planet."

"I don't understand. You think I should just ask her to let me have it?"

"You already told her you need to plant the seed. Maybe she'll let you. Maybe she likes you, Layla? She brought us here. Use it."

"Maybe she still needs us, Arius? Ever think about that? You're right, I already told her, which means all she's got to do is kill me off when she's done with me. Hell, Shedu will do that for her if I fail."

Arius moved close to Layla and whispered. "I'll do it, then. You find us a way off this cruiser. Steal a shuttle or something. I'll deal with her and we'll go. That's the alternative."

Layla's heart skipped a beat. A flush spread through her skin. "You're comfortable with that?"

Arius stepped away with a wry grin. "I sort of like her, actually. But I've never been opposed to moving an object out of the way."

"So you don't think she's... alive."

"I'm not so sure I believe in life."

***

Layla looked at the sword. "The old one was dirtier, but other than that, I couldn't tell the difference."

Ina said, "I agree. It matches as well as I can determine. We have no reference for the orb."

Clara held the glass shape in her hands and admired the color-shifting effect. Plastic spheres were sold by market vendors as novelties; dancers would juggle with them, and mystics would promise the secrets of the future. Children's toys, and Clara found the device difficult to respect.

"That looks about right," Layla mumbled.

"Parasite says we couldn't reconstruct it fully. See," Clara continued as she pointed out two polished patches on the sphere, "there are some places where the cloth didn't make contact. It's funny, the whole thing looks like a giant fingerprint."

Layla agreed. "Right, all of the lines connect and flow together. Could you try and fix the missing ones, based off the others?"

Clara politely shook her head as if to ward off the idea. "No, see. The depth of the lines, not just how they are laid out on the surface, determines the properties of the sphere. The overall prismatic effect will be maintained if we leave the surface polished where we don't have data, but if we plot the arcs and get the depth wrong, it might not work at all."

"I agree with Layla. Could you make several of the orbs, one reconstruction with the depth at some sort of mean, and more if you have any other ideas to predict the depth? We can try them all out," Ina said.

"I suppose we could see if there is any relationship between the depth of the arcs and their position on the surface, or maybe the incident angles of the depressions. Or maybe there's some computer model we could do to predict the effects. Something statistical. But that stuff is way beyond me. I could figure it out, but it would take me megaseconds." Parasite's voice echoed through the monitor; he was watching from the machine lab, still cleaning up after manufacturing the orb.

Liam had remained silent, standing in the room in a Quorum uniform. He and Bronco had agreed to join the mission after Ina had been impressed into service. Liam had never really left service; he had been a Quorum employee since the beginning. Bronco had a record of legal infringements, and could only obtain a provisional security qualification, and so he was barred from the more sensitive areas of the ship and mission. Bronco quickly learned that this meant he would spend almost all of the trip in the common areas or quarters. The isolation didn't matter, much. They would be paid well and the Suijin was comfortable.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Ina insisted with Marshe that Bronco and Liam accompany her once they offered. They had accepted the explanation of her origin without distrust, after all. Bronco and Liam were known quantities; Ina was certain they would support her if an issue arose during contact, and she strongly desired to survive the event.

Layla peered at the engraving on the sword through the orb. The red hue of the blade changed into violet. She slowly turned the orb over in her hands, watching the colors cycle through shades of yellow. "The puzzles are always simple. It's a lens, right? But it's not working."

Clara shrugged and returned to her seat. "Well, ok. If you need me for anything, let me know. Otherwise, I want to keep working through the data from Ina's scan of the sword. If you're right, Layla, maybe we don't need to use the orb at all - the engraving is very fine, and the shapes formed by the texture of the symbols interact with light in weird ways. That's a good clue. There has to be someone on the Suijin who can handle that sort of computer modeling. I'm thinking this orb is a tool for people who don't have computers like we do, right?"

Layla nodded and rubbed the sweat from her palms on her jacket. "If you don't mind, I'll just stare at these for a while."

Marshe's face appeared on Parasite's monitor. "We'll manufacture the new orbs and bring them up. Does anyone have a reason we should go back down to the planet?"

No one replied. "Ok then. We're going to break orbit. I don't want to be in a vulnerable position if the Ura come back."

Focused silence permeated the room. Ina wanted some time alone, and then perhaps to find an opportunity to check in with Arius and Bronco. She was certain the fighters felt out of place.

***

Ina poked at the "sausages" with a plastic fork. They rolled around, floating in brown gravy on the plate. They were slightly charred, wrinkled, and permeated with chemical substitutes for appropriate spices. She swallowed a mouthful of the food, assessing the texture and makeup. But she did it without the aid of the symbolic interpreter. The activity thus consumed all of her mental resources.

Clara sat at the table with a similar plate of shriveled, round sausages in greasy gravy, alongside a fluffy bleached-white mass of boiled starch slathered in the same sauce. The two were alone in the cafeteria, they were in the middle of a typical shift. The cafeteria could seat thousands, while the table could seat a few dozen, and Clara felt alone.

"Hey, Ina."

"Yes?"

"Can I ask a personal question?"

Ina pondered this. "Yes."

Clara knew she would lose her confidence if she eased into the topic. So having received permission, she simply leaped. "Have you ever had sex?"

Ina looked up from the sausages, and across the table at Clara. Her make-up was smudged slightly; almost imperceptible. Clara had been crying. "Yes."

"Do you enjoy it?"

Ina tilted her head to the side in an attempt to appear empathetic. "Yes."

"John and I are lovers. We have been together since before his sickness, and I guess we still care about each other a lot."

Ina hummed. "The incident which resulted in his body becoming prosthetic? I don't know if I have anything to offer in this conversation."

Clara's courage began to run out, so the words flowed faster. "Yeah. We're still intimate, and he says he wants it, but I know it's a chore to him. And that crushes me. Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up. It's nothing important."

Clara stared at her plate, and the pair finished the food in solitude.

Ina stood and thought for a long moment as she turned to leave. She pulled her perception of Parasite into the conversation, and Clara's awkward words became clear. "I believe I understand. Would you be upset if I spoke to him about this?"

Clara shook her head. "He would be mortified."

"Then he won't know you spoke with me. Still, I have observed him, and may be able to support him in ways that others are not."

Clara nodded, and let a sad smile loose through glossy eyes. "Yeah. Thanks."

***

Four men sat around a small, low table in the empty hangar. Bronco dropped the cards from his hand onto the table with a flourish. "Read 'em and weep. Better pay up!"

Arius rolled his eyes while Parasite and Liam sighed, making mock complaints. Bronco pulled the chips from the center of the table into his own pile. One by one, he counted them out, stacking them.

Parasite looked over at Bronco. "So, you trust Ina?"

"As much as I trust anyone, I suppose."

"And you don't have a problem that she's a robot."

"Man, it's not like that. She's a person."

"Made by researchers in a lab."

Bronco grimaced. "My momma couldn't have kids and so they whipped me up in a test tube and handed me over. So I don't really see the difference."

Parasite said, "Ok, made in a lab, but not out of people parts. Robot parts. Therefore, robot. There's a bit of a difference there."

Bronco shook his head. "Leave it alone. I do."

Liam shook his head. "Well, it's not that simple, but I agree. So Parasite, how about you. You trust Marshe?"

Parasite shook his head. "Not at all. She's completely self-serving, insecure, and hungry for promotion."

Arius laughed. "Tell us how you really feel."

Parasite had thought about the question while Bronco was answering. "Ok. She's a great person when the going's good. But when things fall to shit, so does she. Since we're talking about our bosses, I guess you're up, Arius."

"Cantor Marshe is the boss of us all, now. Layla's not bad. I've known her since she was born. We grew up together in Avenant space. She's driven."

Parasite said, "She seemed like a ditz the first time we met."

"Yeah. Terrible actress. But we were pretty desperate."

Bronco said, "I guess that's how it is. Can't trust a body. Not all the way. Not to be anything other than who they are."

More cards hit the table. Parasite had won the hand on a bluff, and Bronco swore about not being able to read 'a fucking robot.'

Bronco looked around the table. "So what's next? Where are we going?"

Parasite said, "We found coordinates on the blade we reconstructed from your scans."

"So... where do the coordinates lead?"

Parasite sighed, a digital exasperation exhaled. "Well, not actually coordinates to a planet or anything like that. Orbital elements. Trajectory deep into free space. We're going to set up an intercept route."

"Other than getting there, I'm worried about who else might have the information," Liam said.

Arius agreed. "The Ura are out there with the Destiny. They have the originals, so they might have figured out things we haven't. Even in this ship, we're at a disadvantage."

"Forget I asked," Bronco said.

Parasite said, "No, but guys, it gets better. The orbital elements are immense. It's traversing cosmic distances at relativistic speeds. Intercepting it is one thing, but we've got to catch up on a tangent. It's going to take the help of a gravity gate and megaseconds of acceleration just to get close. Guess what government already scheduled time on vector with our destination?"

Liam shook his head. "Fantastic. This is going to be a blast."

Parasite's mouth hung open maliciously. "We can only hope not."

***

Devon Sanders stared across the table, his eyes and those of Elizabeth Sanders were lost in the newscast. The Ura had apparently declared war; the Eres and her complement of Uran warships were floating outside the Erde Staatschild; station lights were flickering as armor absorbed the tremendous energy thrown, and the Quorum guns did not return fire.

The Uran fleet was holding back; if they had just wanted to give the Quorum hub a black eye, they would have nuked the station. Instead, they wanted the station to surrender. A bell rang and a young man in a military uniform came into the small room. "Time to go."

***

Tribune Stitts stood in front of the terminal, retrieving the fleet record of the intelligent cruiser Suijin. He selected the ship's data link, then the ship's captain, and recorded an encrypted video message.

"Cantor Paono, this is Tribune Stitts from the Staatschild. You are hereby commanded to Khopesh, in the free space Qom district beyond the Gorman sector. I'm not sending them a message to expect you, you'll need to take care of that yourself. The Ura are after your cargo. At all costs, do not let them take it from you. Godspeed."

Stitts pressed the transmit button and left the communications alcove. The security monitors showed that the soldiers outside the command deck were about to breach the secondary doors with plasma torches. Stitts checked his pistol and returned to his office.

He reached into a drawer in the wooden desk of the office and pulled out a bottle of syrupy brown liquid. A crystal glass followed the bottle onto the table. Stitts carefully removed a knife from his pocket and neatly sliced through the blue wax seal holding the stopper of the bottle in place. Once cut, the seal fell off cleanly, a single piece. The stopper came away wet. Stitts was careful not to let any of the crumbling cork fall into the liquid.

Stitts carefully warmed a glass in his hand. He was surprised by the heft of the glass, even empty. He had received them after his father had passed. His father had received them from his grandfather. He would leave the collection to his daughter's first child, a boy, a hundred megaseconds of age.

He poured a measure of the liquid into the glass. The cork stopper was ruined. The bottle was a work of art; the design would be trivial to reproduce in one of the fabrication labs on the station, but this bottle was real leaded crystal, made by a vocational glassblower. He sniffed the cognac - real terrestrial cognac. The treat would have cost a megasecond's pay, but was a gift from his daughter and son-in-law, wealthy business-owners.

The glass had been emptied and refilled when the door slid to the side, and four soldiers in foreign uniforms made to enter the office. Stitts simply smiled at them, one hand holding the cognac in a toast, and the other resting peacefully on his lap. Stitts greeted them in his best-practiced voice. "Gentlemen. Welcome. I hope you find our home hospitable."

The light from the control center beyond the door refracted through the glass, transforming the scene of Benefactors slumped over consoles into an image of schoolchildren asleep at their desks. Smile still on his face, Stitts' hand rose as he quickly aimed the pistol towards his temple and pulled the trigger. The soldiers heard a whisper, fabric tearing, and watched the top of the Tribune's head transform into a cloud that splashed the wall and ceiling with crimson and grey.