Chapter 19
NINETEEN
LYRIEN
"Are you sure you wouldn't rather stay on board?" I asked again as I ran diagnostics over the suit, fussing over her.
"We spent weeks perfecting the design, and we've gone over all of this already," she said, reaching out to pat one of my thicker filaments with her metal-covered hand as she proceeded to reiterate everything we'd talked about before making this decision.
"This is the best way to be certain that none of the supplies we purchased are contaminated before they come on board.
Sending one of your drones down to pick up the delivery won't cut it.
We need eyes to check it over, and if you leave the main bulk of your body behind up in space to go down to check the delivery with your core, it will be defenseless.
"You're my core," I said. "Without you, I am defenseless."
She sucked in a sharp breath.
"Oh, Lyrien. You're my core, too. However, if we aren't willing to risk our hearts, we won't ever fulfill them.
Which is why we designed a MECH suit," she said, letting out the same delighted cackle she made every time she said the acronym.
There was something about it she found absolutely hilarious, but I didn't get her humor.
We made it to protect her from the planet below because, yet again, she was going out of my reach. There was nothing funny about that.
When she first suggested building a mechanized exoskeleton combat harness, I understood exactly what she was going for, and I hated it.
She had looked over all the data I had on the solar system we had to make a pit stop at.
It had multiple planets with a mass of intelligent apex species evolving at the same time, both predatory and non-predatory, which created a complex and dangerous culture.
They were insular, stuck up, and refused to communicate using universal translators to the point that they were a restricted technology unavailable to most of their population.
The only space stations were for system defense, not trade.
All trade had to go through planetary ports, which meant that I had to first buy a shuttle and then send it down to pick up the goods we were trading for because my current build wasn't ideal for planetary landings.
I would amend that in the future, but it would require a large redesign and restructuring, as well as specialized landing gear or a power system devoted to long periods of hovering, and we didn't have the time or resources for that.
I'd purchased a shuttle and retrofitted it so that I could control it remotely, along with giving it physical controls that Maria had practiced with in the simulation I set up.
The MECH was the solution to the final problem of the planet-side culture.
With the predatory-prey side-by-side evolutions came a complex social structure where predators hunting sentient species was considered normal. It wasn't encouraged, and there were laws against it, but only for citizens of the planet.
Non-citizens were considered fair game.
This system was flagged with multiple warnings about not leaving the planetside space ports, because once across the boundary, non-citizens couldn't get back to their ships.
Legally, Maria couldn't be snatched and carried out into the greater planet, but system flags made it clear that those laws wouldn't do anything to help us if she were.
This wasn't just a seedy crime-riddled space station in pirate territory; this place was dangerous because it had the facade of legality that was overlooked by the predatory species when it came to the meat trade.
Even so, the planets in this system were huge consumers of imported meat to the point that the public areas of the spaceport had enough security that Maria should be safe.
I wasn't satisfied with should.
Neither was Maria.
Which was why she came up with the idea of hiding the fact that she was a biological being behind a suit of armored weaponry designed to read on scanners as a Calicium.
They dropped by this system regularly to trade away their scrap meat.
This planetary system didn't care if the meat was sentient or otherwise, so it made an easy place to trade for them.
There weren't any Calicium ships in the system currently, but it was another reason we made the decision that I couldn't leave the bulk of my body behind, as well as why we needed to check any and all oncoming supplies for contamination.
I was a little worried about the external design of the suit, as Maria wanted it to look a particular way, but that shouldn’t matter as it would still scan as a Calicium piece of armor.
"I am the robo cop," she cackled again, making her voice sound weird and choppy like she did every time she was engaging in a specific MECH-related humor I didn't understand. "I am here to terminate you."
There was a small whirring sound as she popped both of her arm guns out and pointed them at my wall. I ran the automated check of her weapons systems for the third time. She shouldn’t have to use them, but if anything went wrong, I wanted to make sure that she could shoot her way out of it.
“Pew, pew, pew, pew,” she said as she thrust her arms forward and back in time with the strange noises which had no translation.
“What are you doing?” I asked her.
“I’m using humor to reduce my stress and anxiety levels,” she said, giving me a bright smile.
“Entering a dangerous situation with a regulated nervous system prevents the sympathetic nervous system from burning up all the fuel before I get there. I don’t want my flight or fight to trigger until it is needed.
It also helps prevent my amygdala from hijacking my prefrontal cortex.
If it does that my reactions will be quick and instinctual, but not necessarily the right ones.
I’m basically engaging in humor and play so that I’m able to make more logical and accurate decisions. ”
“Are there other ways to do that than humor?” I asked, curious. Her intelligence always drew me in, making me want to explore the depths of her knowledge every time she said something I had no personal knowledge about.
“Sound healing is one,” she said. “It is a well documented neurological practice called entrainment which involves using specific audio frequencies, rhythms and physically palpable vibrations to match internal brainwaves to steady external signals, which helps regulate the nervous system. Movement practices such as flow arts or yoga can also help that, as can stationery practices such as meditation or mindful breathing.”
The weapons system reported back all functional.
"Weaponry systems check complete," I said, jumping back to the moment at hand, my worry for her overriding my curiosity to learn more. "You can still change your mind. We can keep the shuttle in full isolation until you check it over."
"If the stuff is contaminated, we can get it replaced with untainted material before we bring it on board," she said, repeating everything we already spoke about.
"I'm not going to back out of this. We need me to go down.
Besides, it isn't like someone can just walk by and pick me up and carry me off while I'm in this thing.
We thought through the risks, and we came up with a workable solution. This will go well."
She was right.
If she were just strolling around in that spaceport, all small and pluckable, anyone would be able to walk by and snatch her and run off with her. She may have grit and gumption, but determination and bravery weren't a substitute for armor and guns.
She clunked her way into the new shuttle, her face plate sliding down into place as she locked into her holding position next to the drones I had on board to handle the loading and unloading.
Now every part of her was disguised behind the strongest, deadliest design we could come up with.
“If the weapons check is done, that means it is time to go,” she said.
“It is,” I agreed, still unhappy about the fact that she was going down there but knowing that my unhappiness didn’t take a higher priority than her autonomy.
"Number one," she said, lifting her arm up, then dropping it down. "Engage."
She told me in advance she wanted to say those specific words to signal it was time to send her down, explaining something about an old show she had binge-watched in college.
I pushed down my trepidation, closed the ramp to the shuttle, and started the engine.
As I flew the shuttle down towards the planet's side space port, I realized that I was going to have to get used to this particular type of terror because if this went well, she was going to want to do it again.
Maria wasn't one of my birds to be kept in a cage and protected. She was my partner.
I was going to spend a lot of time refining that MECH.
By the time I had it perfected, it would be able to withstand orbital re-entry on its own.