The answer wouldn't be there.

Just as it wasn't there the day before. Or the day before that. The weeks and months before that… How long had it been now? Sometimes it was best not to think about it; better to get absorbed in other things so that the horrid thoughts of what might have been would never be allowed to surface. To focus on the ship itself was always a welcome escape, with its living bits and pieces mixed in with the hum of engines and the smell of oil.

A hand reached out, touching the wall gently, reverently. There was a soft glow, and a motherly voice that was really no voice at all. Moreover, there was a comforting warmth that spread through the hand, down the arm connected to it, then seemed to linger within a willing heart before dissipating altogether. The mystery of the walls had never been solved. They were solid, yet the veins within them often shifted and moved like the legs of some great cosmic spider. Slow in their movements, they never seemed to be in a hurry to get anywhere. Where would they go, really, trapped aboard this alien vessel just as her crew was? The Christa gave them a lot to learn.

At night, sometimes, she walked. Not the Christa, no… Certainly not. An extension of her, though. A mere android, who was once able to relay the messages between Christa herself and the ship's former Lumanian crew. But things had to happen the way they were foretold, and nothing could have been done to stop them, once those things were set into motion. Thelma's crystal would crack, and the ability of the Christa to use the android to speak would be broken right along with it. The boy from earth would gently nudge one of the crystals at the helm, and the ship would gently glide away from the Starcademy. The spacial rip would appear as if out of nowhere, and by using the gentle mental vibrations which was all she could exert, the Christa would instruct her new family to allow themselves to be pulled through it... Even as they were trying to stop themselves from being pulled through it. The white circle, she heard them call it, would take them years from home, and it would certainly not be the first time they would encounter the anomaly.

Thelma.

The android backed away from the wall, smiling her ever-present grin as she went about her nightly duties. They could talk to each other, of course. It was just that they understood each other in a very different way. Translation simply would not be possible, in logical means. Instruction, sure, but Thelma would likely never utter the words, "Christa says…" ever again.

It wasn't so bad. Once in a while, one of the students would brush up against her walls, and she'd sing to them for the scant few seconds that she could. It had been just over two years now, though, and their awe at the detached musical tones was waning… They didn't listen anymore, and it made her sad. Unlike Thelma, she was capable of producing real emotions. After all, she was partially alive. Recently, sadness had been an all-too-familiar feeling, and one that Christa dwelt on almost daily. She was lonely, and there was little she could do to change that.

And that night, she sang for Thelma, and was pleased to feel a stirring in the Android's core. Yes, Thelma was moved emotionally, and for good reason. A wonderful accident, prompted by a terrible idea, allowed Thelma to become Yensidian for a few hours.

There had been consequences.

Christa could not sense them anymore. She'd become afraid. Nothing she could say or do would cause Davenport to fix things. Fear… If a living ship could feel fear, welled up inside her when her mind reached out to touch the circuitry of an android that was not Thelma. This one's name was Suzee…

But Thelma told Christa all of what had happened as soon as things were settled down once again. The ship was actually quite pleased and interested in the details, and even felt Thelma's excitement as she told them! After years and years, Thelma was finally beginning to learn how to register emotions. Not only that, but she was beginning to actually feel them, rather than simply emulating them, because she knew what it was like.

Maybe that was a step in the right direction.

Lonely. So lonely. Just hold on for a little longer.

"Thelma?"

"Yes, Harlan?"

She heard them talking. Heard through Thelma's ears. Saw the boy through Thelma's eyes, too… A dark earther, his features highlighted by the gentle glow of the greenish lights that stretched across the floor. Would he ever know that there were two entities looking down at him through Thelma's grey eyes? Christa felt Thelma register the inquiry and process it as any other bit of information. A quandary? No. Simply idle code rocketing through circuitry at an alarming rate of speed. It would easily be dismissed as irrelevant.

The boy spoke, his voice slightly slurred from tiredness. "…Just thought I'd say hi," he stated, shrugging.

Hello, Harlan, the Christa said.

"Hello, Harlan," Thelma said, that ever-present smile still plastered onto her face. "You are… returning from night watch?"

"Suzee took over about ten minutes ago," he responded.

Suzee. Christa had always sensed her presence, and was slightly confused by it. At one point, nobody said hello to Suzee. Nobody spoke with her, or laughed with her. Thelma, even, could not see the girl, and yet Christa knew she was there. The ship could not see, or touch, or hear, except through Thelma, but she knew. Next to Catalina, a pale aura had touched her hand to the Christa's wall, and the ship had said, Hello, Suzee.

Goodbye, Catalina.

Then, it had all become clear.

"Ah, she is complaining as usual," Thelma added cheerfully. Harlan laughed, and shrugged.

"Well, she's not really a student. But I guess Cat's up there with her. And Cat's a student, and, you know, she still had her duties to the ship. I'm not gonna let her slack off just because she's invisible!" He crossed his arms in front of him, laughing, quite proud of his own insight.

"Mm. A very interesting plan, Harlan, but I should remind you that Catalina is… currently unable to manipulate object on this plain of existence." Obvious and correct as always, Thelma brought Harlan's ego down a few degrees. Explaining things to something unliving was difficult at times, but Christa laughed anyway. There was a rush of air through one of the jumptubes, but the sound was ignored. Dismissed as normal and commonplace… Of course, it was.

"Goodnight, Thelma," said Harlan.

"Goodnight, Harlan," Thelma responded. She turned, a jerky, almost unsure movement, as she watched him disappear into the jumptube. There was a whoosh of air again, but this time it was not the ship. Christa was alone again.

No one would notice the slight dip in speed as she sighed.

Frustration, but not her own. Thelma, someone needs you.

The android hurried down the halls of the Christa, ducking through passageways and doors, up and down various levels and halls. Hurry, Thelma. Their distress is building. Can't you feel it? In the engine room. Soon you will hear the voice…

"Thelma!"

"I am here, Commander!"

Goddard shuddered at the sudden appearance, but did not question it. So long had it been going on, that he, as well as the rest of the crew, were quite used to Thelma appearing out of nowhere when she was called. As much as they expected it now, Christa could see how it might still be a shock. When it did not happen, however, they became worried. The choice was difficult… Change Thelma's programming, or keep it the same? Logically, the crew would be less worried if the routine they were used to continued undisturbed. Thelma, thusly, was alerted regularly to the possibility that she'd be needed, and was nearly always there within seconds of her name being called. Often, the Christa thought with pride, she was there before her name was called.

I know you, my children.

Goddard… A STARDOGS captain in his prime. The Christa knew, through Thelma of course, that he was not happy with his position. It was understandable… Being demoted was hard to deal with as far as she knew. A ship could not be demoted, though a ship could feel the pain of her crew when a few harsh words were spoken, and suddenly an officer found himself lower in rank. It was devastating. But Christa had given the man the best gift of all… She loved him dearly, as she loved the rest of her crew, and so she gave him the position of Commander. He would not have to lift a finger. In fact, he would not be permitted to; he would simply exist to supervise. To offer his council when it was needed. Christa would hear him, yes. But he was not the one that had lessons to learn.

Hello, Seth.

He held two cables. One was a relay cable… For communication between terminals and the main computer. The other caused the Christa to stare… The channel for communications between the Christa and the terminals… The living link between them, in fact… was held in the commander's other hand.

Christa was not all-knowing. There was a reason for that… The living part of her knew quite a bit about her own systems… The mechanical aspect. The engines. She knew every level and everything on every level by heart. Signals that she sent out would instantly activate or deactivate even the most complex of machines. In fact, for a brief time following the students' arrival, she actually ran the ship. With new discoveries, each new day saw her doing less… With Suzee's arrival, Christa had even allowed the crew access to her main engine room. The ship was doing less and less for the students as they matured…

But Christa did not know everything. Not until it was presented to her. Thelma might never relay the Christa's messages, but perhaps the Christa herself could do it!

Subtly, the ship wrested control of the Helm from Suzee. Seconds ticked by.

"Commander, the Christa's not responding to me…" There it was. Suzee's voice, coming loud and clear though the com.

Goddard set down the cables, and Thelma's head turned slightly to look at them. The grey one… Ordinary, inconspicuous, it could very well be the one that would restore communication between herself and her crew. Christa knew what Goddard wanted with those two cables – absolutely nothing. They'd simply been pushed aside to give him access to the Protomix core control, as he, like the rest of the crew, was obsessed with speeding up their journey home.

"Are the jumptubes still online?" he asked.

Thelma's eyes lidded as she conferred with the ship. "Jumptubes are fully functional and online," she eventually confirmed. Goddard brushed past her, keyed in his destination, and leaped down into the center tube. Thelma would normally follow; this time, she did not. She had a different job to do.

They exchanged a whole conversation… A conversation that might have taken hours… in the time it would have taken to tie a shoe. Christa was intelligent. Thelma was artificially intelligent. The crack in the android's crystal barred none of this intelligence from shining through… Especially as it was an extension of the Christa's own mind. For a moment, Thelma felt as if she were communicating with the Christa just as Suzee communicated with Catalina… Christa was pleased. Without being prompted, Thelma created the analogy, and even found it humorous.

The ship rolled a bit as the crew fought with the controls. They would get the ability to pilot the ship back… Eventually. Unfortunately, the motion caused the cables to slide toward each other. Their ends met, and the gentle hum made by the engine increased just slightly at the surge of power. Quickly, Thelma reached down to separate them, holding the plain grey cable in her hand.

Christa righted the ship, and erased the progress Suzee had already made on reestablishing control. She'd have to start over, and the erasure would be blamed on a memory leak.  Not everyone was convinced that the control freeze was an accident, however. Intuitive Radu… He was already entering the jumptubes, and would arrive in the engine room very soon. Likely, he'd heard the surge… Something the others would have missed.

Rearrange these. Put that one here. This one there. The red one shall curl around the blue one. The yellow and green shall be connected.

Thelma worked diligently and quickly, plugging cables in here and there, separating some from certain connections, and joining others. At last, it came down to that inconspicuous, unattractive grey cable that she still held reverently. Thelma knew it was important to the Christa, even though it could not be conveyed in words. But the android's work paused, because the ship was not sure about something.

Christa knew that a couple quick maneuvers would allow her the ability to project herself onto her terminals… She'd have to learn how to speak again, of course, and at first, her communication would be limited to binary. Suzee might be able to figure it out. There was even a way to translate it into rudimentary characters, if they could figure it out. Perhaps they would ask Thelma, and she would tell them… But only if they asked. It was not whether or not it could be done that the Christa worried about. It was more the question, should it be done. Was it part of the plan? Would it disrupt that delicate balance that the Lumanian people had so carefully planned and woven? A connection to earth. A connection to her. This was not only a voyage of apprenticeship for the Starcademy students. It was a way for the Christa to find herself once more.

But would this upset it all?