Stupid Robot

It was strange how quickly yellow flashing lights lost their meaning when not accompanied by a blaring alarm. As the last shuttle departed the Demiana C540 her captain watched from the viewing bay. Days away from any habitable planet, moon, or space station he wasn’t sure if they'd be back before darkness enveloped him and his cargo ship entirely.

Alan Bailey Cain was not an easily moved man. Standing 6'4" with broad shoulders and arms the size of railroad beams he maintained that he was stable at all times inside and out. Even now in the impending loneliness as his precious and most trusted friend breathed her last breaths he refused to let emotions get the better of him. This wasn’t the first time he’d challenged death to visit. Course, this was the first time he’d be facing running out of the air instead of battling a bullet.

I think I’d prefer a bullet than this...

"Sir?" Interrupted the familiar voice of LANA. The ship's  Linguistic Astronomical Navigations Assistant. She was a hunk of artificial intelligence in the physical shape of a 5'6" woman. She had a knack for interrupting his thoughts. For her sake he’d become used to it by now.   

"Yes, Lana?" Captain Cain didn’t bother to turn and look at her as he watched the two shuttles carrying his seven crew members float off into the dark abyss. Each aiming for a nearby moon with settlements that could send help.

"I really do wish you'd have boarded one of those ships,” she said as she crossed her arms and joined him in front of the large window overlooking the universe. “I can manage the flight coordinates for a lot longer than you need air.”

“Yeah,” Cain nodded. “But what if scrappers jump on board before then, hm? I’d be down a ship and down a you.”

The android shrugged, “It’s pretty similar odds of scrappers boarding if you’d left with the crew or if you die in a few days.” 

He looked at her and grinned, “Always one with the delightful odds, even if the face of complete power loss.” 

“Well, I’m not going to lie about it,” Lana shot him a serious look. “You obviously aren’t sane enough to take my advice when it matters.” 

“But every other time,” he tilted his head and shrugged. “I listen pretty good.” 

“Barely,” Lana smirked and the man chuckled. 

Silence settled between them as they stared out the window. They watched until the shuttles were barely visible. It wasn’t long until the shuttles were easily mistaken for stars in the distance. The weight in Cain’s chest had found a new level of normalcy - no longer sinking. Here they were - alone in the darkness. 

“Well,” Cain turned, “Let’s get to work.” 

With about four days of air left as the cargo ship floated idly in the metaphorical winds of space, they needed to extend Cain’s odds. While the crew had moved all the food, water, and gear to the bridge before evacuating there were still items in private rooms worth collecting. Not known to be a nostalgic man Cain collected a few extra blankets, a few extra snacks from the mess hall, some books & magazines from various crew quarters. He figured no one was going to claim them now and they’d keep him company until the others came back. 

They will come back.

A last glance around his quarters a twinge in his chest caused him to grab a photograph of his long-departed mother. The color was fading from years of sitting behind its glass case. Her blue polka-dotted dress and his red overalls were now a dull version of what they were. But he remembered the day it was taken even if it was a long time ago. He remembered her laughter and even his own joy. It’d be a happy memory if the time came to die. Taking the photo out of the frame he folded it and shoved it into his breast pocket. 

“Alright,” Cain called out as he approached the bridge with a cart of extra entertainment. “We should be good. Are you sure you have everything you need?”

“Are you?” Lana asked back. She was seated in the co-pilot seat a thin blue wire dangled from behind her ear and plugging directly into the console. She was casually typing something on a glass tablet and didn’t bother to look up.

“If I don’t have it I don’t need it,” he pulled the cart from the hall. He tapped the necessary buttons to initiate bridge lockdown protocols. The metal barrier came down and a locking mechanism went to work ticking and clicking in such a way that brought comfort to what they were about to do next. 

“Good?” Lana asked. 

“You’re the robot, you tell me,” Cain answered as he began sorting the loot he’d gathered into the stacks of supplies they already had. 

The android’s chin rose and she narrowed her eyes at him. She held her response long enough for him to realize she wasn’t going to answer. 

“What?” the burly man looked at her with a shrug as if caught doing something he shouldn’t have. 

“Robots,” Lana started with a tone and Cain immediately rolled his eyes, “are lowly programmed hunks of metal that perform menial tasks. I am a sophisticated--” 

“-- biologically structured android,” Cain completed her lecture. “I know. I’m sorry, I just… I’m balancing a lot right now, Lana. Just do it already.” 

The android visibly clenched her jaw and turned back to the console. She forcefully tugged her input cord out and it quickly zipped and curled back behind her ear. Mumbling insults under her breath she pounded at the necessary directives. Reluctantly Lana said, “Initiating Energy and Oxygen Preservation Protocols in … 3...2...1.” She tapped a few more things and then flipped a switch. 

The yellow warning lights blinking through the circular porthole in the door turned a sharp and piercing red. Because they’d turned off the audio warning system some hours before the devastating scream of The Demiana was unheard. The deep inhale of the ventilation system sucking up all oxygen in the unused rooms beyond the bridge was hollow and loud. The deep whistle of the cargo ship taking back the oxygen she’d given in favor of storing it for her human captain was both a source of hope and sorrow. 

Dressed in his hibernation suit Cain checked the inventory of water, food, and medical supplies. Lana was still sore about his use of such derogatory language toward her and happily remained silent unless spoken to. Her answers curt and laced with sarcasm. As the hours edged by it became obvious that they couldn’t continue like this for much longer. He was going to be going into a 48-hour sleep cycle and he wasn’t about to let a petty argument plague his subconscious. 

“I’m sorry, Lana,” he offered as he closed the mechanic’s copy of Starship Digest. “I’ll try harder to not use that term if it means that much to you.” 

“That’s what you’ve said before,” the android retorted crossing her arms and turning her seat to look at him. 

“I… yeah,” Cain nodded. “That’s the last time…” 

“We’ll see,” she raised her artificial brow at him. “But I’ll forgive you for now.” 

The captain nodded and stood from his seat. He scanned his palm into the cryo-bed they’d rolled into the bridge. The hydraulics let out a hiss and the glass top opened up. The clean grey cushioned interior lit up and invited a restful sleep. Lana followed suit and began to prepare his sleep cycle as planned. She helped him attach the necessary nutrient and hydration patches to his arm. She readied the biometer gun and waited for him to open his suit. 

“Thank you,” he said to her as she approached. 

Lana paused, confused by the words. “For what?” 

“Being here,” Cain nodded as he placed a hand on her shoulder. “I don’t think I’d be able to do this without you.” 

She smirked. “Are you saying that because I’m about to put you in cryosleep and you don’t want me to do anything brash?” she asked. 

“Well that,” he nodded playfully as he revealed his hairy chest. “But mostly because I mean it.” 

“You’re welcome,” she grinned as she placed the gun on his chest and installed the bio unit. A white circular canister was now lodged in his chest, reading every piece of data available to 31st-century medicine. 

He climbed into the bed and took in a few breaths of air. The thought that he might not breathe this way again crossed his mind. As Lana prepared the final protocols he retrieved the photo of his mother and gave it one last look. The compartment doors closed and he drifted deeper into darkness. 

~~~~

The memory of her polka-dot dress spinning around in the sunshine was one that rang with laughter. 

His pudgy six-year-old hands reached out for her calloused fingers as his legs rushed to keep up. His feet lifted off the ground and his body took flight. 

As the world disappeared from around them the only face he could focus on was hers. 

Her bright hazel eyes and her wide smile mimicked his. 

The gap between her front teeth both endearing and distinctive. 

She loved him. 

He loved her. 

The shadows from the trees dancing on her skin as the warm sunshine gradually... began to fade. 

~~~~

Cain woke in darkness. The cryo-bed was opened and the only light into the bridge was that of the ambient glow of a nearby moon. The usual lights on the spaceship console were dark and there was no movement nearby. 

“Lana?” he called out as he sat up. “Lana why are the lights out already?” Caine took in a breath and climbed out of the cryo unit. Feeling around for the familiar layout of the space. He found a familiar console and grabbed the flashlight he usually kept for blackout purposes. “Lana?” 

The torch-lit up without trouble and the beam of light glided over the stacks of supplies, chairs, and metal units. It wasn’t until he searched the floor did he find familiar black boots splayed out on the other side of his sleeping chamber. Panic rose and he darted to Lana’s aid. 

“Hey,” he greeted as he dropped the flashlight and pulled her body into his lap. “Hey!” he said louder. “Lana! Wake up!” Placing his two fingers where a human would have a pulse he slipped them around to the back of her neck and pushed. 

Gasping as if seeking air Lana’s back arched against him and she collapsed into his arms again. The reach of her power reserved for her neck and facial expressions. “Captain,” she said looking at him with the mimicked sorrow in her eyes. “I’m so sorry. The power went out on day nine.” 

“Nine?” Cain practically cursed. “I was only supposed to sleep for two days. What happened?” 

“The odds were better if you slept longer,” she informed. “But...the damage was far worse than we thought. With the power out, your cryo-chamber wouldn’t have sustained you.” It was then that Cain realized that her plug-in behind her other ear was connected to his sleeping unit. 

“Why would you do that?” he asked. “How long have I been asleep?” 

“Eleven days,” Lana answered. “You should be arriving at the Rolanix 872 Station in 18-hours. With the power out you have about sixteen hours left of oxygen in this room.” 

Cain knew that with the power out all the air that they’d tried to save by barricading themselves into a single room was pointless. Without a ventilation system, there was no air being released. What they had was already there. He searched her features in the blue haze of space unsure of what to say. 

“Don’t worry,” she smiled as she slowly blinked. “I filled the hallway with more oxygen before she died. You’re going to make it so long as the trajectory doesn’t get thrown off by anything.”

“You’re amazing, you know that?” he asked rhetorically. “Once we dock we’ll get you charged up.” 

“I know,” Lana chuckled as her eyes closed for a long moment “Just make sure .... those nasty scrappers don’t haul me away.” 

“Don’t jinx us, now,” Cain grinned. “We’ll get through.” 

Lana nodded and then went limp. A pang of heartache began to add more weight to his chest. More pressure in his shoulders settled in and Cain closed his eyes. Taking in another breath he felt officially alone. The last lap was on him. He knew that both of his girls could be patched up. But first, they needed to get picked up by a station recovery unit. If Lana had calculated the trajectory correctly they’d be fine. But...that was a big if. Aiming at a space station from days away was always tricky even for a robo-- android. 

“If we miss by more than two miles out we’ll keep floating by,” he told himself as he stared out the bridge window. He tried to make out whether he could spot the target station from 18-hours out. But...without his navigation android zooming in that wasn’t possible. 

The next few hours were torturous. Cain was so well rested the idea of going back to sleep wasn’t even possible. Plus, he wanted to be awake the moment that Rolanix 872 was in sight. He spent the first few hours collecting all of the flashlights from their supply cases. Lining them up for use should the worst happen. He then dressed in the spacesuit and considered eating some of the protein they’d stored. He nibbled, but he didn’t overindulge. 

The wait was agonizing. He didn’t know if he should prepare for the worst or celebrate the fact that he had a fighting chance. Either way he needed whiskey. 

It was probably for the best that Lana was unconscious as he drank his third class of whiskey. While she would have complained that he needed to remain sharp for future interactions his sleepiness was returning. He couldn’t tell if the exhaustion was from the drink or his oxygen use. Either way… he laid down on a cot and closed his eyes. 

~~~~

“I don’t know,” Cain said as he tilted his head and slowly observed the various androids lined against the wall. “Does it even matter what they look like?” 

“Of course,” the sales droid nodded. “The way your Linguistic Astronomical Navigations Assistant looks reflects your status and your position in life. It will also provide diplomatic expertise if you travel in the outer banks of the solar system.”

“How so?” the captain asked. 

“The prettier your droid the easier it will be to circumvent cultural misunderstandings.” 

“Riiight,” Cain mumbled as he stopped on a hazel eyes android standing about 5’6” tall. Her hair straight and universe black. Her programming card read, ‘Conversational, Sarcastic, Honest, and Protective.’

“This one… I want this one…” 

~~~~

“Demania C540 come in,” echoed a male voice from the console. “Do you read?” 

Cain sat up with shortness in breath at the sound of someone in the room. The short-range radio had been rigged by the mechanic to operate on a solar cell they’d charged some days ago. 

“Yes,” he said into the radio mic. His breath shallow between every word. “I.. we…. Are out of ... power…. Out of ….oxygen…. Send help.”

“Copy that,” the voice echoed through. “Emergency assistance is on the way.” 

With each breath the harder the next felt. Alan Bailey Cain could barely keep his eyes open. He could barely think straight. While his rational mind knew to breathe steadily and keep his cool until help arrived his body was aching for his source of power. It felt as though his lungs were frantically searching for any sign of oxygen beyond his body. Clawing for the opportunity to fully inhale. 

“The hallway,” he whispered to himself. Remembering that Lana had filled the corridor with oxygen. Stumbling from the console to the bridge door he realized that without power they couldn’t unlock the bridge. He couldn’t get the air just beyond. Being resourceful he grabbed a wrench and attempted to wedge it between the door, but the pressure of a bridge lockdown was going to be impossible for a single man to break. 

He then attempted to strike the glass of the porthole in hopes that it would shatter. Even just a crack would let in the oxygen he so desperately needed to keep his organs functioning. The power he required to keep going long enough for help to arrive. The glass bounced as it was designed to do and didn’t even bother to grant him a scratch or a crack. 

“Goddammit!” he hissed as he slid down the door wheezing for what air might have been left in the room. He spotted the feet of Lana from behind his cryo-bed. The desperation in him fueled his annoyance. His eyes slowly closing as he continued to struggle both for his lungs and his brain. Exhaustion setting in from the exertion he so stupidly had attempted. Why hadn’t she opened the hallway doors before it was too late? Surely she’d considered the odds of leaving the door open vs closed. Surely… Lana had considered all the possible outcomes…. 

Shaking his head Alan Bailey Cain blinked one last time and mumbled, “Stupid… robot…”