The Adana Affair (Spaceport 9)

The Adana Affair (Spaceport)
Second Edition

Mikala Ash
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2020 Mikala Ash

"Am I forgiven?" Fyche asked.

"You're lucky I'm still talking to you. You're lucky you're still on my ship. You're lucky you still have a body!"

I was referring to the organic body I'd finally agreed to buy for my long-serving ship's AI. He had been begging for it for ages. He cited all the usual practical reasons why an artificial intelligence might want an organic body; guarding me while on assignment, helping me with my research, being an extension of the ship's core memory and effectively allowing him to be in two places at once.

The list went on, but his real agenda was quite selfish. He, Fyche, an artificial intelligence, had fallen in lust with me. He openly admitted it, though was at a loss to explain it. I, and my body, had become an obsession with him. He wanted, he said, to taste my bodily delights after witnessing so many of my sexual adventures.

I wasn't entirely sure this was a good idea, and I offered to have him psychoanalyzed, or whatever the equivalent was for artificial intelligence, but he convinced me that was not a good idea. Such analysis could destroy his distinct personality which, I must admit, I'd come to appreciate and grown accustomed to. What finally swayed me was the prospect that the month it took to grow a synthetic organic body around his positronic brain presented me with a too good to miss opportunity to linger at the capital and spend some extra bed time with Laz.

Laz. The thought of my lost lover sent me into another bout of sobbing. I'd been in this morbid state for three days. It was ridiculous.

"I know what will get your mind off him," Fyche said.

"Fyche, for the last time, you are not going to get into my pants!"

"I meant this."

I opened my scratchy eyes. Phong knows what I must have looked like. Three days crying can't be a good thing. "What is it?"

He held a data card. "It arrived an hour ago."

"Who is it from?"

"The transmission didn't say," he said. "It was coded private and confidential."

"And you didn't even peek?"

"Tampering with private transmissions is an offense."

"Yeah, yeah," I said, not entirely believing him. "When have you not opened my mail?"

"I'm offended that you would think I would break my basic code of ethics."

I waved him into silence lest he start quoting me the AI code of behavior. "Don't just stand there like the piece of furniture you are, plug it in."

The holo-screen lit up on a face I hadn't seen for years. The eyes grabbed me first, like they always had. I always hated those eyes. They were too blue to be real, but were, in fact, her own. Her face was framed by a halo of jet curls. When I'd last seen her, Holly's hair had been straight and long, but that was years ago when we were teenagers. Her face was animated, full of life and energy. She was beautiful.

I haven't really thought about her in ages, really thought about her, that is. I was surprised that even now I still resented her. Call it petty but I was never one for sisterly affection.

Holly smiled that dazzling smile that would melt my father's heart.

"Peri, I need your help," she said bluntly. "Come to Spaceport Adana. I have attached the coordinates." She fixed me with her azure gaze, the confidence slipping to be replaced by something like melancholic resignation. "I need you." The recording faded and I sat back in my chair.

"Your sister?" Fyche asked me. "I can tell by the resemblance. The same intensity in the manner, the arresting presence, yet, I sense she is naïve, a child almost, and she plays on that perception. Men want to protect her, and she lets them."

Starting with my father. I glanced at Fyche. He was watching me closely, his dark eyes attentive and kind. He always knew the right thing to say. Though I called him a simple AI and treated him abysmally, he was not a simple piece of furniture. He was, in all things where it counts, a good friend, probably my only one. "Her physiological signs?"

"Impossible to pick up on a hologram. I have to be in the person's physical presence to detect their vital signs. However, pupil dilation, non-verbal behavior and phase variations in her voice suggest she is in a state of some anxiety. Is she susceptible to pressure?"

"Not that I ever noticed," I said.

"How long has it been since you've seen her?"

"Many years. A lifetime, maybe two."

"She seems to be in trouble."

"What do we know of Spaceport Adana?"

I waited the half second it took for him to interrogate the ship's library and collate the results. "According to one travel writer, 'Adana is a seething cauldron of crime, corruption and political unrest, a cancer on the tattered edge of civilization.'."

It seemed typical of Holly to end up in such a place. She seemed to have an affinity with degradation. "Prepare a summary for me," I said. "Holly's a reporter. No doubt you'll find some of her stories."

"The only one," Fyche mumbled.

"What?"

"She's the lead journalist for the only independent news service, the Adana Observer."

I laughed. "You mean she has the whole spaceport at her mercy? Phong help them."

"Shall I set a course for Adana?"

"As fast as you can."