Chapter Text
Make it so we don’t have to go to this thing. Its voice over the feed sounded less demanding than the words would indicate, in fact there was a note of pleading.
SecUnit, we told Ratthi we would go. He thinks it’s important for our ‘emotional integration’ with the crew—or something. Gurathin hoped his real feelings weren’t blatantly obvious in the feed.
You don’t want to go either! Now it sounded grumpy and ever so slightly petulant. It was right too. The last thing Gurathin wanted to do was go to a party. No that wasn’t true—a party was something he’d hate, but tolerate. The last thing he wanted was to go to a costume party on the Perihelion. A costume party? Who held costume parties on space research vessels?
But apparently this was a tradition of long standing, long before The Perihelion had been born constructed whatever. And the crew were very superstitious about traditions. Which Gurathin at least understood—interstellar travel was perilous, no matter how advanced the technology of your vessel. The crew were, in some ways, just as (if not more) superstitious as their ancient mariner forebears. A shipwreck at sea could be survived— a lucky current, a desert island, a passing ship to the rescue; but in space no one would hear you scream.
In this case, that meant a costume party.
He sighed.
Did Ratthi tell you it was a competition? He suddenly felt SecUnit’s attention upon him, laser sharp.
What sort of competition?
Oh shit, thought Gurathin, I’d forgotten how much it likes to win.
***
The last fifteen minutes had been exhausting. SecUnit struggled with the concept of the costume party theme—apparently the crew followed an ancient Terran tradition where this party marked the point of the year where nights became longer and people gathered together for protection and warmth.
We are on a fucking space ship, the day and night cycles don’t change length.
Thank you for that, SecUnit: do you want me to continue?
They’d built fires, held parties and dressed-up as—this was the bit that SecUnit really struggled to grasp—things they feared. They dressed as monsters (hostiles, SecUnit insisted on calling them), witches (that was another fun explanation: yes, people feared and persecuted intelligent old women, no Gurathin wasn’t making excuses for them) and ghosts (SecUnit seemed to have no problem imagining ghosts; somehow Gurathin didn’t find this hugely reassuring).
So we dress as something scary? I can just go as a Rogue SecUnit then, everyone finds them scary.
Gurathin was very tempted to just give up at this point and agree.
I wouldn’t win any prizes, though—would I? Gurathin actually looked up and checked its expression. It had a grim smile on its face. But I’m not afraid of anything.
He thought back to the letter it’d sent Mensah, the discussions with Bharadwaj which had been included in her documentary. You should dress as an augmented human. He said it without really thinking.
Oh ever-living FUCK—why had he said that? Gurathin wished he’d put himself on a one-second delay so he could delete it.
What do you mean? Gurathin swore he felt the temperature in the room drop. He looked down at the interface he was holding, half-expecting to see frost crystals forming across its surface.
“SecUnit, you’ve often said that augmented humans are the biggest threat to you as a rogue.” Gurathin spoke aloud, hoping that would make the lie less obvious. It hadn’t “said” it as such, it was just implicit in the way it obsessively made the distinction between “humans and augmented humans”, and the way it still treated him with…uneasiness. He expected it to snap back at him in the feed. Instead there was a pause. Gurathin remembered to breathe.
Yeah, I could do that. I can sit in the corner looking like an asshole, not talking to anyone; and do this with my face if anyone approaches me.
Gurathin hardly dared to look—but it was inviting him to look at it, wasn’t it? He couldn’t repress a snort of laughter; SecUnit had an exquisitely expressive face and it was currently a picture of appalled disgust.
I don’t look like that!
Its face transformed into a grin of triumph, Yes you do! When you saw me on TranRollinHyfa, that’s exactly what your face did.
It really didn’t, thought Gurathin. But he let it go. It seemed happy and excited by this plan—clearly seeing it as a way to get a few barbs in, avoid socialising, and potentially win a prize.
But if I’m doing that, you have to dress as a rogue SecUnit, Gurathin.
Guarthin tried to ignore the way his heart jumped slightly when it used his name. I’m not sure I could he said, I’m not tall enough for one thing—
ART could make you some boots with thick soles, I’m sure its replicators could do that. You’re only 3.2 centimetres shorter than me anyway. You’ve got a dataport, and your augments look pretty SecUnit-like.
Gurathin pulled back his sleeves, No gunports.
Long-sleeved jacket, like this one, SecUnit indicated its own crew jacket.
Gurathin smiled grimly, I guess I could wear an “I love Sanctuary Moon” T-shirt and mess up my hair?
He felt, rather than saw, the rogue SecUnit in the room glare at him from under its messy fringe.
After the party (which Gurathin had, to his surprise, actually quite enjoyed) the three of them retired to Ratthi’s cabin. Ratthi fixed them a couple of drinks (slightly encumbered by the cilia of his—what Gurathin could only think to describe as a ‘Sexy-Giant-Sandworm’—costume), Gurathin eased himself onto the sofa and peeled off the platform boots. SecUnit sat in the corner (over the feed Gurathin could detect the familiar theme tune of Sanctuary Moon playing quietly), its face set in a slightly dreamy smile.
***
Gurathin could just make out that in its hand it was still clutching their trophy.
