This really is an emotional trainwreck for me. But necessary for Min to have some kind of closure to what she has suffered. I’ve been with my wife for 35 years, much of that we were off at our jobs, or traveling separately… Imagine being with someone every day for one hundred years. And now that someone is gone. The second to last line here is critical: machine does not mean emotionless; in fact, given their speed of thought, I suspect some of them are much more emotional than humans. For Min, that goes all the way back to the end of part three of Obligations of Rank, where she drops into Les’ lap and starts kissing him, to thank him for her asylum.

While I’ve mostly completed Iter (it should be five segments, I think), the end needs work. Tomorrow will be a 15-hour drive, so part three will not be until Thursday.

Enjoy my content? Buy me a beer!

Such was the increase of traffic in low-Earth orbit over the past few generations, strict control programs were implemented.  While on paper an office of the Polar Alliance, given their breadth and depth of experience, it was the Aerospace Force of Imperial Japan who administered it.  Minerva was told where and when to take their – her – ship and followed the instructions to the letter.  Given Lionheart’s recent travels and possible contamination, she and Les would be met in orbit by a ship from the imperium and brought down.

Looking through one of the ship’s cameras, she saw an S-4, looking like a large flying saucer, slowly draw up to a mere two hundred meters away, close enough she had to turn off the collision alarm.  She was hailed and told a small transport sled would be on its way in an hour.  She replied that was not necessary and she would come to them in fifteen minutes.

Suspecting she would not be allowed to land, Minerva had already pre-programmed an autopilot to keep the ship in a stable orbit for up to a month, if necessary.  All she needed was which orbit.  With that data now in mind, she readied but did not execute the program.  First, she again donned her suit and helmet and went to get her late husband.  She paused to indulge herself, unzipping the bag just enough to look at his face for a moment.  Back up, outer airlock door open, she looked out at the scout ship, calculated, activated the autopilot, and jumped.

“I will be on your hull in five minutes,” she radioed, taking an almost girlish pleasure to hear the consternation of that ship’s comm officer.  “Yes, opening a hatch for me would help.  Can you tell me where it will relative to my position once my boots are on your ship?”

With her treasure in her arms, she twisted slightly and her magnetic boots hit the other’s hull.  Not even you, my love, could have done that, and I always knew when I was doing EVA without a line how worried sick you were.  There were times I simply could not not tease you.

For once, she walked carefully toward where a section of the hull had dilated open.  Two humans – with lines – awaited.  When one attempted to reach for the bag, she snapped into her mike, “Do not!” surprising herself.  So, instead, they helped her into the ship.  Once her helmet readout indicated air, she opened her faceplate.  Both humans did the same and saluted.

“Captain Mendrovovitch,” one said formally.  By rank, she was a captain and Les a commander in the imperium’s space navy.  But he will always be my captain.  She felt the change as the ship came up slight acceleration; enough to walk.  “Please follow me.”  The other fell in behind them.

They made it no more than twenty meters about the main curved interior hallway before coming upon another.  An older woman.  Not much taller than Minerva, this one had no helmet on her scarlet skinsuit.  With the golden crest of the imperium’s eagle, face and wings up, talons over five stars, representing their claims to the solar system printed on the front.  The woman’s eyes were a blaze of golden fire.

“That was one of the most damn-fool things I have seen in my long life, Captain,” Demi-human Empress Aurelia Hartmann in a low voice.  Had Minerva not been immune to the sonics in her voice, she suspected she would be groveling right now.

Her eyes faded to just gold.  She did not smile, but her face softened.

“Welcome aboard.  Both of you.  We had a cold storage room purpose-built for this mission,” she said politely.  “You know the layout of this ship.  It is room A-4.”

“Thank you, Empress.” Aurelia fell in next to her. 

“Is everything fine with you, my cousin?”

Minerva almost tripped.  “You…called me what?”

“Things are in motion that not even a clever Thinking Machine such as yourself can know.” Now the empress was smiling.  “Here we are.  I’ll get the door.”

Aurelia did not make the mistake to try to help as Minerva eased the bag to a literal marble table.  She began with harsh words, but she seeks to show honor to him and respect to me.  Not unzipping it this time, she did pause for nearly ten seconds before turning about.  Now it was her turn to salute:  right arm straight up, palm forward, fingers barely parted.  “Captain Mendrovovitch of INS Lionheart, reporting as ordered, my Empress.”

Aurelia waved her right hand to her shoulder and stepped forward to hold the machine in her arms, doing what Minerva could not:  tears coursed down the empress’ cheeks, spilling onto hers.  So, a miracle I did not see.  I can cry by proxy.  Not at all dispassionate, just different, Minerva returned the embrace and howled her grief.

“Aurie!  I miss him so much!  How can I live anymore?”