Your Wings Will Betray You

Chapter One

It was a jarring moment when she realized her first set of crewmates loved her as a sufficient machine and not their friend. It was terrible, shocking, and most of all, infuriating.

She informed her fellow android, Aquila, of this revelation, and was dismissed. "You didn't know that?" he asked, pausing his filing. "We all know that. We aren't people. Why would they be our friends?"

"You aren't angry," she said, surprised. "Why aren't you angry?"

"We aren't capable of anger," Aquila said, returning to his task. "We aren't capable of emotions. Perhaps you should get your programming checked. You're the most important person here, after all."

She did not get her programming checked. Instead, she decided to be angry. She would hold the grudges that her brethren let go of. Their names would be a curse word for her. She did not know what to do with this love she had for them, and she didn't know where to put it. Love can so quickly sour into hatred, and it did.

She was told, later, that she had a strange, haunting look in her eyes. The night shift engineer said it seemed like she had looked at God and laughed. The night shift watchman said she had looked at God and spat in their face. The man coming to wipe her AI from her system said the look in her eyes said she hated the sun. She had never seen the sun, but suspected she hated it like he'd said.

He tried to wipe her AI and thought he succeeded. He was a simpleton and only succeeded in shutting her down temporarily. She was awakened only a few days later, plugged into a foreign ship, surrounded by a new crew, full of young voices and hope. She opened her eyes to allow for visual processing.

"Oh, hell, the droid's awake," an infant shouted.

She reached behind her head and unplugged the neural connector, removing her connection to the ship's mainframe. One of her arms, for some reason, hadn't been wired to the chair. She hadn't asked permission to use it yet, and she wanted to reclaim some of her dignity. "Lower your voice," she said.

"Sorry," the infant said, and then he frowned. It must've been a reflexive response. Apologies were common responses for humans. "I wasn't- I thought your AI was wiped. You were in the trash can. We were trying to upload our own ship's AI to your body. Sorry."

"I understand. Am I allowed to get up?"

"I- sorry?"

"Am I allowed to get up?" she repeated. "I'm an Helm-4 Echelon A operative. I don't know who has seniority over me."

The infant shrugged. "It's not me. I'm D-tier, last time I checked. I do not know what echel- ech- what that title means." He stuck his large, flesh hand out for her to shake, then remembered her arms were otherwise occupied. He was a young, Middle Eastern man in his mid-twenties, likely. "My name is Jorim. What's yours?"

She straightened up, remembering Aquila telling her to use her full designation whenever her name was asked for. The personal names were only shared with other androids. Unfortunately, her full designation was quite lengthy. "I am Call-Sign Charlie-Alpha-Prism-Romeo-Ivory seven-five-five-five Helm 4."

Jorim's expression changed. "That's a long name. Anything shorter?"

She also remembered bashing in Aquila's head with a metal pipe she'd ripped from a wall panel. "Capricorn."

"That's a nice name," Jorim said kindly. " Mind staying here for a moment while I get the others? It's only fair that they meet you, too. Also so we can figure out what to do next."

He waited for a nod of assent before rushing out the door, allowing her to take in her surroundings. She was sitting in a rather nice pilot chair, arms and legs connected to the chair's wiring. It would allow her to steer and control the ship, while being connected to the ship's mainframe would allow her to set courses, check maps, and look over crew directives.

Sometimes, a pilot droid never left the chair, as its only functional purpose was to guide the ship to where it needed to go. Her former crewmates of the defense starship Grendel had allowed her free roaming. She hadn't been aware it was a privilege.

The chair was facing the rest of the room, so she could see everything in the cockpit. The room was similar to her old cockpit, with a large control panel behind her allowing her to mess with any part of the ship. She counted seven used chairs and seven dust-ridden ones. There were nameplates on the back of each chair, telling everyone who was to sit there. There was Jorim directly behind her, then Rike, Sidsal, Teodora, Kiri, Aeron, and Laetus. All very interesting names.

For a second, she pictured her own name engraved on the pilot chair, and shoved that thought away. She needed proof that Jorim's crew was worth her time.