Friction - Chapter Seven
Blair shivered under her sheets and watched her alarm clock's digital display tick towards the hour of her flight. She needed to get out of bed soon, but neither the cold air of her apartment nor the prospect of a shuttle trip did much to move her to purpose. For over a half-hour she'd simply been balled up in the fetal position, fighting a losing battle for sleep with the butterflies in her stomach. She kneaded out a pinched nerve above her surgical band and decided to give up on getting anymore rest.
"Una," she called through chapped lips and a dry throat.
At the sound of her voice, soft noises echoed out of the droid's cubby, soon followed by the mech herself. Una propelled onto the bed and landed in a heap of blankets with an excited series of bleeps that stretched Blair's long yawn into an amused smile.
"Well, at least someone's looking forward to today's trip," the woman mumbled sleepily. "Will you turn the heat up please, ma'am?"
The mech rolled to the floor with a thunk and skittered busily into the living room to find the thermostat. As Blair watched her go, she caught sight of her laptop on the floor where she'd left it the night before. Upon realizing she'd never shut it off, she finally managed to drag herself out of bed. The computer could provide some distraction on the shuttle, but only if it still had some battery life left. She picked it up and placed it on top of her dresser as the cold floor sent goose bumps up the back of her bare legs. After switching her prosthesis's power core for the computer in the wall outlet, she went back to her bed and sat.
Her bionic arm rested in its usual place on her nightstand, and just as she did every morning, she went through the motions of trying to pin it down with her good elbow and slide in the power core at the same time. She grinned in triumph when it finally locked into place and began lining up her prosthesis interface to pull it on. Una came rolling back into the room just as her human finished sealing the bionic's electrical socket.
"I don't think we have time for breakfast Una," Blair told the mech, "but we can make some coffee. Would you like that? Coffee?"
The droid chattered busily and followed Blair into the kitchen where she bleeped impatiently at the human's efforts to locate the coffee beans. Despite Una's pushy attitude, the woman only smiled. She'd first noticed Una's obsession with the grinder some months ago, and while she wasn't sure how the simple machine could capture her mech's imagination, she found it endlessly amusing. She found the foiled bag of coffee and plopped it into the counter.
"There, okay?" she chided the mech. "Just give me a minute. I'm not like you, you know. I don't get my energy from batteries. I need coffee to wake up."
Una made a whining noise that made Blair laugh. The human opened the bag of beans and dumped a cupful into her coffee grinder. She was about to plug it in when she suddenly stopped.
"Sleeve," she remembered. Blair turned to the mech and tapped her bionic arm. "Una, help me find my sleeve." The two went back to the bedroom and began searching through piles of blankets and a hamper of unwashed clothes. A few minutes later they were back in the kitchen, with the human's finger over the grinder's power button and the droid's ocular lens fully open. The small apartment erupted in noise as soon as Blair flipped the switch. Una sputtered madly at the appliance until her human shut it off.
"All done," Blair said. "In the pot now." The mech remained silent in disappointment but looked up to the woman for further instruction. "Why don't you watch the coffee while I go get dressed? All I need to do is pack up my bathroom stuff and we should be good to go."
.oO-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Oo.
The queasy feeling Blair had woken up with slowly multiplied as she passed the airlock into Noveria's commercial spaceport. It was a larger facility than the terminal the NDC charter had flown her into upon first arriving, and it had security to match. She'd only just entered the lobby and already a half-dozen uniformed ERCS guards had come into view. As expected from a company founded by turians, most of the guards were of the same species. They scanned the passengers with a scrutiny made so much sharper by their tiny, hawk-like eyes.
The woman licked her lips and whispered over her shoulder to the pack on her back. "What do you think, Una?" She felt the droid shift against her spine before issuing a low response. "Yeah, well, just keep quiet until we get on the shuttle alright? Pretend you're in your cubby charging."
Una settled again and stayed silent. Blair sighed then straightened her shoulders with determination. She walked to one of the icy windows at the edge of the lobby and peered out at the shuttles beyond. They looked stable enough, and the weather was relatively clear. She ran the drell doctor's reassurances through her head, and the bubbling her gut began to subside. Maybe the hypnosis would work after all; maybe she would get on the shuttle, watch it take off, and actually manage to enjoy her little impromptu vacation. Her focus shifted to her reflection in the glass and the bronze lenses of the aviators across her eyes. She thought she saw her father's face for a moment in the frost, and somehow it made her smile.
"Okay, old-man," she mumbled, "I'll do it. I'll make you proud again."
She turned away from the window and took her place at the back of the baggage check. Her ticket information was already loaded to her credit chit, so she hoped things would go smoothly once it was her turn. The faster she got through the terminal and the onto the ship the lesser the risk of someone examining Una too closely. Whenever the turian guards passed by she made a show of sipping coffee from her travel mug. All the other passengers appeared to be businessmen, rattling on their omni-tools or clacking at their data pads, so she figured she could use the small distraction.
As the line shuffled forward slowly, Blair inspected the ETA board overhead. She found her flight number and checked its status: on-time. Her spirits rose even further. Good weather, good ship, good time - she had all the hallmarks of a successful voyage. She pulled a destination brochure for Port Locke out of her pocket and examined it. As she contemplated the business she had there, a cramp tightened her left shoulder.
"Ow," she exclaimed as the pain forced her to drop the brochure to the floor and grab what fleshy part remained of her bad arm. She squatted on the ground as the cramp exploded into daggers, causing Una to chatter curiously. "It's okay, Una," she wheezed through clenched teeth. "Just stay clam - it'll pass."
Blair was so focused on the pain that she didn't even notice the guard that approached her worriedly. He reached out to touch her shoulder and addressed her in concern. "Are you alright, ma'am?"
His response was a harsh one as one of Una's tool-tipped limbs jabbed into his hand. The turian made a grunt that was more surprise than pain before stepping backward. He retrieved his weapon as the droid sliced a hole in her pack and dropped to the floor. Una rotated to face the offended guard and bleeped at him angrily. Blair tried to raise her head and explain the situation as the passengers near her scattered.
"The mech won't…hurt you," she managed between labored breaths, "She's just…trying…to protect me."
The turian tried to circle around to Blair's side again, but Una wouldn't let him. Every time he took a step she charged him with a epithet of computerized chimes. Other guards began gathering at the scene while the human woman tried to talk down her mech. When it became apparent to the droid that she was outnumbered, she pulled her limb back into her frame and backed up by her keeper. The turian guard put his gun away and approached once more - cautiously this time.
"Turn off the mech," he commanded the crippled woman, "And show some ID."
.oO-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Oo.
Loud music coupled with the aftereffects of his elasa eventually forced Naveed out of Eternity. The drell didn't drink often, and he knew any more liquor would turn his pleasant numbness into a pounding headache. He settled his tab with a gruff asari Matron at the bar; the young one that had been soliciting him earlier was already seated comfortably on the lap of some tipsy turian business man. He observed her false smiles and lascivious gaze with a jaded frown, wondering if his relationship with Kilandra had all been an act as well.
"Will you be needing a shuttle home, sere?" the elder asari offered him.
"No, thank you," Naveed replied as he turned back to her and took his credit chit. "I think I could use some air."
Upon exiting the establishment his eyes went to his omni-tool. It was getting late, and he suspected Kilandra would be calling him soon, if she wasn't out looking for him already. He glanced up a patch of clouds that had begun to obfuscate the starry sky and sighed. He didn't want to return to the hotel and spend a sleepless night on a stiff mattress, but he didn't want the Kilandra out wandering by herself either. Angry though he was, he still cared about the woman, and Nos Astra's dark side was no great secret.
He concealed his credit chit in a slot on his wrist device then headed for the hotel. There was a faint smell of rain on the wind, but he didn't bother to hurry. He needed the walk back to clear his head, to sort through the confused emotions that still roiled behind his deceptively placid eyes.
Was Kilandra right to suspect him? How could she know of feelings that he had only just realized? More importantly, what made her think he would ever actually act on them? Blair was his patient, and he'd made a vow of no harm - not only to those who sought his help, but to Arashu as well. Never in a million years would his morals allow him to take advantage of someone under his care, much less one as vulnerable as the human in question. The drell shook his head as the first drops of rain spattered on the ground around him. Blair's life had enough heartache already. Whatever his feelings were, they were best kept between himself and his goddess.
He was about to turn the corner into the courtyard of his high-rise hotel when his omni-tool lit up the night air around him. To his surprise, it wasn't Kilandra's contact that appeared on his ID - it was an ERCS line out of Noveria. Naveed stopped in his tracks and ducked into an alleyway between a food stall and an amps supplier just as the rain grew into a heavy downpour. He realized Blair's shuttle was due to take off within the hour and his skin tightened over his muscles anxiously.
"Doctor Naveed Eldrani?" a voice inquired out of his wrist device.
"Yes," the drell answered hurriedly, "Can I help you?"
"I'm Torvo Ferran with Elanus Risk Controls Services, Port Hanshan, Noveria. I'm sorry to bother you sir, but we've detained a human woman here at the spaceport. Identification shows her to be a 'Blair Hodges.' She says she's traveling under your authorization."
"That's correct. Why are you holding her? Is she alright?"
"She's fine, sir, but I'm afraid we can't allow her to fly into Port Locke with an unlicensed AI."
Naveed's eyes pinched and a cool breeze rippled through his jacket. "An AI?" he repeated softly.
There was a pause and some background noise before the voice spoke up again. "Am I to assume the mech designated 'Oo-nuh', serial 0972-XI: Sirta Foundation is unknown to you?"
"Oonuh…" the drell muttered absently as he shuffled memories.
"Blair, do you have any family on Noveria? Any friends?" "No. Just Una."
"Sir?" the ERCS rep called.
"Apologies. The name escaped for a moment but I do indeed know the mech in question," Naveed clarified. "The young woman you have in your custody is one of my patients. She is a bionic and Una is her registered support droid. I was unaware of the mech's level of sophistication when I booked Miss Hodges's flight, but considering her condition I'm sure an exception can be made."
"I'm afraid it doesn't work that way. Your patient is free to fly, but the mech can't enter Port Locke without approval from the port administrator."
Naveed's eyeridges pinched. "Then call the administrator. That mech serves a legitimate medical function necessary to Blair's safety and quality of life."
"I understand, sir-"
"Do you use a cybernetic prosthesis?" the drell interjected.
"No…"
"Then I don't think you do. Do you know how to repair a bionic limb? How to diagnose a brain-port malfunction? I don't, and I think it's safe to say you don't either. The mech stays with Miss Hodges, and I'll call the administrator myself if you insist on giving her any more trouble."
Naveed held his breath and hoped his threat had it's intended effect. After a span of silence, the turian voice grumbled an indignant reply, "Fine. We'll put in a call, but it might be awhile."
"Then forward me to my patient while we wait. This trip was already a sensitive situation for her without your interference."
"I'll put you on speaker. We had to remove her personal device after she used it to shock my partner."
"Shock your partner? I don't believe it. Blair has a discharge device built into her bionic arm; if one of your men got electrocuted it was because he grabbed her before she got a chance to use it," Naveed argued in irritation. "Tell me, Officer Ferran, do you make it a habit to accost all female travelers or just the young, handicapped ones?"
"It wasn't like that!"
"Maybe, maybe not. I wasn't there so I can't be certain, but I am certain of this: Blair isn't a threat to you, your men or anyone else on Noveria. Return her prosthesis to her. It's part of her body now and you have no sovereignty over it."
"But she-"
"Is suffering from what is likely a defective cybernetic build. It's why I put her on a shuttle to Port Locke in the first place; she's going to see a specialist for treatment."
There was more silence followed by what sounded like a muffled curse. The drell thought he heard Blair's voice as well, and when the turian came back on the line his voice had evened out a bit. "I'm sorry for the misunderstanding, doctor. We'll get your patient situated while we wait for confirmation from the administrator."
"Appreciated, but I am not the one you should be apologizing to."
The turian didn't bother to reply before giving Naveed his transfer. As soon as the new connection was established, Blair's bored voice greeted him sarcastically.
"Are you tired of me yet?" she asked with an empty laugh.
"Tired of you?" he repeated. "Why would I be?"
"Because I'm so much trouble…"
"You're not trouble, Blair. Overzealous guards on industrial worlds are trouble. Are you alright?"
"No - they took Una. They aren't going to wipe her are they? I need her…"
"They're calling Port Locke for approval as we speak, but won't worry. You present a special case and I'm certain she will be returned to you soon."
The woman sighed before managing a weak response. "Okay."
Naveed paused and considered the situation before speaking again. "Blair, why didn't you tell me that Una is an AI?"
"I don't know. I didn't think it mattered."
"Are you telling me the truth?" A long silence told him she wasn't. He cleared his throat and continued in a quiet tone. "I'm not angry with you, Blair, and if you don't want to talk about it right now I can certainly understand, but the only time a patient hides something from me is when it's something they feel strongly about - something that causes them pain."
"Una doesn't cause me pain," Blair replied at last, "people do. When they first learn that I need a mech to help take care of myself they think it's sad, but when they find out I made her smart then they just think it's pathetic. They laugh and think there must be something wrong with me because I prefer Una's company to theirs. They say things like 'grow up' and 'get a life' as if Una were a toy and not a highly-involved project spanning more than seven years. And you know what makes me most angry? That these same people who jeer at Una like they've got her figured out don't have the first clue how she works."
The woman took a deep breath and let it out in a long, shuddering sigh. "They don't know what they're talking about."
Naveed filtered her words in stunned silence. Pieces of his patient's psychological profile began to shift in his head as he fought to find something to say.
"They don't know what they're talking about."
He understood the underlying meaning his patient's words and responded in kind.
"You're right, Blair. They don't."