"Kill me."
The world is a fuzzy haze of broken dreams. Lights flicker, the world is white then black, then a swirl of colors. The woman is standing across from him with a warped expression. A blur of lights and textures, as she falls in and out of view. The room glitches as Com's eyes fog up.
"What?" he asks.
Static overtakes the woman's figure and the only thing peeking out from the haze of grey is a single eye. A redshot blue, anguished eye, dampened with tears.
"Kill. Me."
Her voice echoes inside his head. His hand falls to his side as the woman comes back into a clear picture. Her brown long hair with neatly chopped bangs doesn't move in the wind that he can feel against his skin. Her eyes narrow and she lunges towards him, grabbing ahold of his wrist. The warped expression on her face mixes with swirls of static. As the lights dim and brighten furiously, Com pulls back, but finds himself becoming entwined with the woman. His skin turns gray and he feels the static building up inside him as if every single light has burst open and heaven's has engulfed him.
Silence.
He opens his eyes and feels for the connector around his neck frantically. Pulling the cord back, it snaps against the wall behind him as he looks around the room reorienting himself. The bed below him, his legs against the soft blankets. He sighs and stands, dizzy, and begins into the kitchen where Debbie sits at the table, having breakfast. The smell of coffee fills his nostrils and he wonders why his sensory inputs hadn't registered it earlier. Debbie looks up at him. There's nothing but a dull light in her emerald eyes. Her long blonde hair sticks straight up due to lack of gravity. He knows she's not happy about this assignment, but anxiously thinks it has something to do with him.
"Are you going to sit down?" she asks.
The sound of drip coffee resonates throughout the room as he fiddles with his long sleeve sweater. Debbie raises an eyebrow as he slowly walks across the metal floor and takes a seat across from her.
"You wake up on the wrong side of the bed or something?"
Grinning, she takes a single drink from her clear sealed mug. Two splashes of milk and a packet of sugar. He had told her that wasn't good for her, but she didn't listen. He'd just wanted her to live as long as possible, but she'd tell him that was out of her hands. She was right, sort of.
"I had that dream again."
She pauses, the hot lid pressing against her lips. She removes it and places it against the glass saucer pan. It clinks and she exhales deeply.
"This is the third charging unit."
"I know, maybe that's not the problem."
"Then what is?"
She frowns, with a gleam in her eye. Com knows she won't like what he's going to say, and shutters at the thought of her sharp voice.
"I mean, I am an older unit, maybe I should see a mechanic, maybe it's a technical problem."
"Great, so they can say you are outdated and then say the only solution is termination and then turn you into scrap metal."
Com places his hands against his cheek, feeling the warm oil-blood pump through him. His gaze is turned outward towards the stars as he feels the beating inside his mechanical chest.
"I know a guy who works entirely on antique machines. He's amazing. He's not going to just trash me, believe me, but I need human permission to go."
She lets her head hang over her heart when suddenly the doorbell rings. She's startled, and pushes her chair back, but Com is already standing. He walks towards the door, presses a button, and it slides open. As soon as he sees who it is, he bows his head immediately. A woman who has dark hair in a bun stands at the edge of their room. She awkwardly cranes her head inside and her eyes lock with Debbie, who quickly stands.
"That will be all," she says to the android, "I have business to discuss with your owner."
Com does not complain, he simply moves out of the way and silently returns to his room. She beckons to Debbie with her hand. Her clear shawl floating elegantly in zero gravity, hooked in by her thumbs. Debbie walks across the tile in her sleek metal gravity boots until the two are face to face. The wrinkles around The President's mouth make her smile appear forced.
"I'm sure you know why I'm here."
"And you thought that was important enough to disturb me on my day off?"
The President shakes her head before entering. She glances around, taking note of the dirty laundry floating around. Sighing, she grabs a jacket with the old NASA symbol on the right sleeve and observes the large orange stain on the front.
"What do you want?" Debbie asks.
"What do I want? What I want is for you to stop acting like a child, but what I need is for you to think of your family for once."
She tosses the jacket directly at Debbie's face. Grumbling, Debbie grabs it and throws it down the hallway.
"What are you talking about?"
The President stops half way into the living room, her eyes catching a glimpse of a picture frame on the clear white coffee table. She leans down and looks into the eyes of her deceased sister. Maryanne Dawkins. She's wearing a yellow checkerboard dress and cradling baby Debbie in her arms. Debbie's older siblings sit on the park bench besides Maryanne with beaming smiles.
"You really don't know do you?" she asks.
Debbie sighs, "be more attentive to the needs of the delegation. Whispering slurs under your breath isn't conducive to negotiations. Blah blah blah."
Debbie crosses her arms and puffs out her chest. Her blue and gold sequined jumpsuit denote a certain level of seniority within the Earthan militia. Strangers who see it would immediately bow in respect, knowing she is from a high ranking family, but her friends and family know her disdain for her position, spending most of her working nights drinking recklessly at the bar.
"You really don't know anything about what's been going on this morning, do you?" she pauses, "It was all over the news. The Jupiter Moon Settlement's main power grid is offline, and their harvesting system isn't working either. We've been trying to fix it all morning. They are working entirely off reserves. We are trying to get them an ample supply of plasma as a precaution in case we don't get the system up in time."
"Sabotage?" Debbie asks inquisitively.
"I know what you are thinking, it's not the Atem."
"Because they told you they didn't do it?" she scoffs again, "unbelievable."
"People change. The war's over," she says.
"Yes, humans do."
"Look, all I wanted was to tell you that your sister will be arriving in the next hour in The Farragut, to bring plasma to the settlements, among other supplies."
"How thoughtful of her," Debbie replies sarcastically.
The President's lip trembles as she glances over at the photo in the living room. The happy smiles of bygone days. Her throat tenses and she looks away.
"It's a shame what happened to her," she points, "but it's more of a shame what happened to her children."
Debbie reels back, feeling her hands starting to clench. She swallows back a slew of cuss words as her eyes move back and forth across the President's face.
"I don't care what you do Debbie, just don't mess up these negotiations or you'll have nothing left but the clothes you wear. Is that clear?"
Debbie tensely nods as The President walks back into the hallway. Not moving as the door slowly closes, a single tear drips down Debbie's face. She shuffles into the living room and grabs the photograph with both hands. She rips it from the table, her whole body trembling as she throws it across the room, which shatters the glass. A sliver slices into her cheek and a large drop of blood oozes down her face.
She leaves the glass embedded and lets out a soft sob, but the picture stays unblemished. However, their smiles seem more sorrowful than before… but maybe that was just a memory from when she was there. When life made sense. Before the fuzzy haze took over.
Com grips the side of the hallway's entrance, his boots clinking against the metallic floor. He sees Debbie and reaches towards her shoulder. The synthetic warmth flows through her uniform and she jumps back. Her head slightly cocks upon seeing Com standing there. A couple more tears fall and she wipes them off with her sleeve.
Gently, he places his gloved hand around her cheek. At first he feels her pushing into him but then she quickly pushes away. Debbie shakes her head feverishly, her throat and jaw tensing up with each breath.
"No," she says.
With furrowed brows she wipes the snot from her nose onto her sleeve. Com takes a step back, his heart pounding against his chest.
"I'm so sorry," he starts, "I just — instinctively —"
"It's okay. Really, I'm fine," she says.
The glass shards still float around, surprisingly another one hasn't sliced her yet. Debbie rubs her eyes in a circular motion repeatedly as Com watches.
"Will you get the vacuum?"
Com nods and gets the hand held vacuum from the closet and brings it to her. She turns it on with a hum and begins sucking up each individual piece of glass.
"Not good news I imagine?" Com asks.
"My sister is visiting."
"And The President wants you to say hello?"
Debbie frowns and continues sucking the glass into the vaccum's bag, which grows bigger and bigger with each shard.
"You don't want to talk to her?"
Sliding her finger across the lever in annoyance, she lets go of the vacuum and it hovers a few inches above her hand.
"It's not me — look I'm doing her a favor by not talking to her, it's that simple."
"How noble of you."
He smiles and shakes his head in amusement. Debbie reels back, feeling her fists tightening in a seething rage. Inquisitively, he looks at her from head to toe and the smile vanishes.
"I've insulted you?"
"You don't believe me do you?"
"Well—I—"
Debbie bites her lip, feeling the soft skin against the hard clench of her teeth. Com closes his mouth and watches as her scornful eyes glare at him. He starts to move backwards, bracing for the impact of an object or her arm against his metal skull. Nothing comes. She simply stands there with a scowl, and shakes her head furiously.
"She doesn't want to see me. It's obvious, it's like there's been a wall between us ever since well — what happened with mom."
"Did she say that she didn't want to see you?"
"No."
"So how do you know?" Com asks.
Debbie shrugs and grabs the opposite arm with her hand. She looks away, feeling him staring at her.
"You think I should go?" she asks.
"I didn't say that," Com begins, "I just want you to make a decision you are happy with, and not just because you are afraid of it."
Debbie sighs, and wiggles her toes against the soft gel interior of her shoes, her mind churning.
"Fine, but I want to go by myself."
Com nods as Debbie walks into her room. He watches as she puts her hair up in a loose bun, making sure she doesn't catch his glance, before entering his own room. Nervously, he opens the drawer where his clunky old tablet is. He pauses, glancing behind him, before pulling out the notebook underneath. His heart beats faster as he flips through the pages, each with a slew of scribbles and pictures . He can hardly read, let alone write, but as he looks at the pages he remembers each feeling and thought that came from each pen stroke.
"Are you going to be alright here by yourself?" Debbie asks.
He quickly slides the notebook back into place, hoping she hasn't seen it. Grabbing the tablet again, he feels the bubbly plastic cover through his shirt as he squeezes it against his stomach. He turns to see Debbie standing in the hallway, watching.
"Yeah, I'm just going to work on sending those notes to the ambassador."
Debbie smiles and nods before disappearing into the hallway. Com's heart beats faster as he wanders towards the door, making sure she's left for good, before taking out the notebook again.
...
At the bottom floor of the elevator, Debbie stares at the main hub. It's bustling with different species of humanoids. A child runs with a large lolly in his hand, licking the salted caramel as he dodges people in the crowd. One of his parents grabs him by the chest, and he tries to wriggle free. A few young people gawk at the child as they walk into a clothing store Debbie has never been inside before.
"I hate this place," she mumbles.
As she walks out into the brightly lit courtyard, a few human colonists seem to recognize her uniform. They whisper to each other in awe, and then bow excessively. Debbie rolls her eyes as she continues.
"Morons," she sighs.
Towards the middle of the hub, the number of humanoids slowly dwindles. When she finally makes it to the bay doors, she hears a strange, yet recognizable voice.
"Representative Dawkins?"
She stops. Her heart is beating faster and faster. Her hands start shaking.
"I was told you were unavailable today, is it alright if we speak? I have a few questions regarding the Earthen militia's part in the treaty. Minor details really..."
With a pounding inside her head, she clenches her fists and turns towards the Atem President, Madame Salini. Her strange crustacean-like skin, with piercing blue eyes sitting behind sunken in sockets. The fire burns brightly behind Debbie's eyes as she holds her tongue. Exhaling deeply, she turns away quickly.
"I'm afraid I'm busy," she says sharply.
Madame Salini nods and places her hands in front of her gold and white lace pantsuit. Her hands are a rough and bumpy red, with gray and yellow jagged nails.
"I'm sorry to have disturbed you. I know this may not ease your suffering, or the sufferings of our peoples. But as a formality, I believe it will ease the minds of many. Human and Atem alike."
Debbie pauses, "okay..."
"Perhaps we can talk about the details later?"
"I will check my schedule," Debbie says harshly.
Madame Salini nods as Debbie continues towards the door of the bay, her whole body shaking in rage. Pausing, she turns to see if she's gone. Seeing that she is, she tries grounding herself with a few deep breaths.
One. Two. Three.
Just like her mom taught her. If only she were here, if only those things hadn't taken her away. Her life might be different now, but it was no use trying to think about it. Just thinking about her mom's dying words made her angry.
"Don't blame yourself, okay?"
Why would she blame herself? It was obviously their fault. Their stupid war. Trying to take control of the power system. Speaking of family, she was about to see her sister for the first time since the funeral. How many years had it been? Four maybe? Debbie was still a teenager then and not old enough to take care of herself. Lydia had just turned 18 and wasn't in any place to take care of her. Mentally or financially.
She realizes she's been standing in front of the door for several minutes, gaping. Sighing, she pulls the handles of the door open and takes a step inside the large bay. An officer stands in front of the control panel and awkwardly smiles at Debbie. She ignores this and continues looking ahead at the large bay doors.
"The ship will be here soon, Madame Dawkins."
"I'm aware."
She checks her watch, playing a game on it for a few minutes before a loud blaring bell interrupts. The metal doors seal shut as the ship lands in the decompression room. Debbie holds her breath as moments pass. The bay doors finally open and her sister emerges. Blonde streaks from Lydia's ponytail fall into her brown eyes. She looks at Debbie with a small, nervous smile.
"Didn't expect to see you here."
"Well, here I am," Debbie says.
"It's good to see you. It's been awhile. I thought you hated me."
Debbie shakes her head and shrugs her shoulders towards her ears. Lydia beams and goes in for a big hug, which Debbie reluctantly accepts.
"I just didn't know what to say."
With a sorrowful laugh, Lydia squeezes her little sister harder. A silhouette emerges from inside the doorway of the decompression room. Debbie looks over her shoulder with scrunched eyebrows.
"A stowaway?"
Lydia looks back towards the entrancence and rubs the back of her neck with her hand.
"Not exactly. I have a partner in crime now. I didn't know you were coming or I would've told you beforehand."
"Oh," Debbie says, "that's no problem."
The figure emerges and is wearing a black jumpsuit. A commoner's uniform, but there's something wrong. Leaning backwards, Debbie covers her mouth with her hand. Her jaw clenches as Lydia's partner cocks their head at her.
"Who is this?" they ask.
"Jacquill, this is my sister Debbie. She's the martial arts champion I was telling you about," she says.
"Ah, Debbie, I remember. Nice to meet you."
They reach out their crustacean hand, covered in little bumps around the edges. She takes a few more steps backwards, her vision becoming blurred with tears. She takes her hand away from her mouth as Lydia leans forward.
"Look, I know how you feel but Jacquill is really a sweetheart and I well I didn't know you were coming and —"
"How could you do this to us? How?"
Lydia sighs and glances towards Jacquill, who stands anxiously waiting for her reply.
"Because – because I love them. Don't you – don't you know what that feels like?"
Debbie bites her lip, "Of course I do, but I'd never -"
"Debbie —"
"And here I thought this might be a nice family reunion. I should've known better than that," she spits, exiting the bay.
The doors close as she briskly walks down the hallway, running into people as she passes. She can hear her sister's desperate pleas as she enters the elevator. She shuts it behind her, and grabs at her chest as she thinks of this cruel twist of fate.
How could she ever love a monster from the race that killed her mom? Their mom?