Rescue Mission
kreska ido & dr karek
stolen cargo ship
kreska ido & dr karek
stolen cargo ship
The second time someone tried to kidnap Kreska Ido, they did it for money, and they succeeded, for a time. She was nine years old, and on her way to Cylinder Station 12, to live with her father's relatives. They had stolen her off her transport ship, hidden her in a suitcase. They kept her in a small, dark room, tied to a chair with tape on her mouth.
When they contacted Teraka Ido for a ransom, they did it over a live video feed, so that they could confirm that Kreska was alive and in their custody.
"Don't play games with us," the tall one said, sneering. "This is Captain Robinson's daughter. The Terran Alliance isn't just going to leave her to rot."
"You have made a critical error," Teraka said impassively, "in assuming that I speak for the Terran Alliance. I left the Forces nine standard years ago. Captain Robinson martyred himself for peace, and they have spent nearly a decade wishing he had done it for war. Kill his daughter, and you will give them their martyr. They will sweep over your little fringe worlds like wildfire, and her corpse will fuel more propaganda than she ever could have living."
"And you'd just let them do that," she short one said, "to your daughter?"
"Your other error," Teraka continued, "is a misunderstanding of Jobari reproduction. I am biologist, a bio-engineer, and a master geneticist." She leaned closer to the camera, the same face she'd had for as long as Kreska could remember. "If I really wanted," she explained frankly, "I could make another one." The feed went dead.
The men holding her hostage had not anticipated this. Kreska had, but she also held some hope that it was a negotiating tactic.
She spent another week tied to her chair before someone came to rescue her. She was still in her small, dark room when it happened, and so she didn't know what exactly occurred. Only that there was suddenly a great deal of noise, and then a great deal of silence. When the door opened, she flinched away from the light; they'd given her so little that she was exhausted, far more exhausted than a nine-year old had any right to be.
"It's okay," said the stranger, voice unfamiliar and male. "I'm here to help." Kreska nodded her understanding, though by that point she didn't much care. He hesitated before he untied her, staring at her face. He had hooded eyes, so dark they were almost black, and Kreska thought there was something kind-looking about him. Tired, but kind. "I didn't realize," he said, half to himself. "Until now, I think… I think part of me thought you'd have his eyes." There was a rueful tilt to his mouth, a shake of his head. "Isn't that stupid?" He took the tape from her mouth very carefully, much more carefully than her captors ever had. They hadn't been sure if the rumors about Jobari spitting acid were true, hadn't wanted to risk it.
"Did Teraka send you?" she asked before she could stop herself. Her Terran Standard had improved the last few years, but her accent was still thick, just like her mother's.
She couldn't see his face when he answered, busy cutting the ropes around her legs. "Yes," he said, and she was sure he was lying. He picked her up, once again very gentle, and carried her to where he'd docked his ship to this one. She pressed her ear to his chest, and heard nothing.
The men who'd kidnapped her were scattered about, but they seemed to still be breathing. "You didn't kill them," she said, sounding almost surprised.
"I don't kill people," he said, as they moved onto his ship, a tiny old thing designed as a short-distance shuttle.
"Because you don't want to," she wondered, "or because your programming won't let you?" It was genuine curiosity.
"You could tell?" he asked, and it hadn't occurred to her until then that perhaps she wasn't meant to have.
"You blink every five seconds exactly."
He made a noise like a grunt, though he had neither lungs nor vocal cords. He set her down on what looked like it was meant to be a dining room table. "I'm going to give you a quick physical, okay? Just to be sure." She nodded, and he pressed his fingers to either side of her neck. "It's because I don't want to," he added, and this time when he blinked his eyes began to glow blue. He was scanning her, top to bottom, blood to bones, and she was neither old enough nor human enough just yet to feel self-conscious.
"Does it make you sad when people die?" she asked.
"Yes," he said, still scanning, "it does." They were both silent for a moment. "Not going to tell me that's irrational?" he asked finally.
"Feelings aren't supposed to be rational," she said, entirely too certain for her age. "That's what makes them feelings."
"So you believe a droid can have feelings," he said more than asked, that same rueful tilt to his mouth again.
Her brow furrowed and her lips pursed. Her mother, certainly, tended to make strong claims on that subject. She didn't trust anything that didn't grow from a seed. "Of course," she said. "My… Captain Robinson had a droid on his crew. He was a doctor, too. They were in love."
He stared at her for a long moment. Stared, not scanned, because his eyes weren't glowing any more. "I'm going to disengage," he said finally, "and start us on a course to get you home."
She watched him go, and sat with her hands in her lap. She looked around the room, but there weren't many personal touches, nothing to make it feel lived-in. She supposed an android wouldn't need that kind of thing. The engine did not so much roar to life as hum, and she found herself slightly disappointed.
"You know about Theodora?" he asked when he returned, leaning against the doorway.
"I watched all the old videos," she explained. Including the ones that had never been posted, including the raw footage from before the TAF had edited them into respectability. The TAS Theodora, her father's Island of Misfit Toys.
"Teraka let you watch them?" he asked. She remained silent, and looked at her feet. They'd taken her shoes, because they thought it would make it harder for her to run. "Your mother loved him, too," he said, as if coming to her defense.
"Teraka Ido is chemically incapable of love," Kreska said matter-of-factly.
"They're – they're your parents," he said, sounding almost strained. "You don't have to call them by their names." He ran a hand through messy black hair. "They loved each other – really, they did. And she loves you."
"I am a failed experiment," she said, gently, as if he was the one who would be hurt by this information. And he was, though she'd tried to be nice about it.
"Teraka does not think that you're–"
"You don't have to lie," she said, in that same gentle way. "She told me." He looked stricken. "You don't have to treat me like a child. I'm Jobari."
"They – she…" He scratched at his head, and he wondered if thoughts and feelings felt the same across circuitry as they did across neurons. He came closer, and took her hands, looking very serious. "Your mother is unbelievably bad at handling her emotions," he said, as if she hadn't figured that out. "She loved your father, and now she kind of hates your father, and she kind of hates herself for hating him. If… if, sometimes, she seems like she hates you, she doesn't. She just. Hates the people you're made of."
"You're being very rational," she said, which was high praise from a Jobari, "but that doesn't make me feel better." Nothing about him was familiar, but it seemed like he should have been. "Did you know them?" she asked, because she didn't remember ever seeing him in their videos.
"… not really," he said with a simulated sigh, which told her absolutely nothing.
"Maybe you could… tell me your name?" she suggested.
He looked rueful again. "Li Shizhen," he said, and he looked faintly amused as he said it, which probably meant he was lying again.
"Okay," she agreed anyway. "Dr. Li. Did my physical look okay?"
"Oh! Oh, yeah. You're – you're fine. A little malnourished, you need to get some sunlight, but otherwise you're fine." He looked sheepish, walked over to some of the cupboards and unlocked them in search of something. "I don't really have, uh, food. I tried to grab some things for you, but I was in a hurry…" He pulled out a plastic package of some kind. "I have cookies?" he offered helplessly.
"Someone offered me a cookie once," she said, perking up. "But I haven't ever had one." He tossed it to her, and she caught it, tearing open the package slowly and carefully. "You act very human," she said, trying to read the label on the package in her hands. It was written in Terran Standard, and for some reason the letters never seemed to work quite right for her, never in the order they should have beem. "Is that on purpose?"
It wasn't the best way to have phrased the question, but she didn't know a better way. His hesitations, the way he spoke, the noises he made and the expressions he wore – all of them were things that would have been accidental, if a human had done them. But he was a droid.
"Not even remotely," he laughed, and there was something familiar about that laugh that she couldn't quite place. "I am a series of glitches with a medical degree." It was a single-serve package he'd given her, a circular baked good as big as her head. Cautiously, she took a bite – and her eyes widened, huge as saucers. "What?" he asked, alarmed, stepping nearer to her. "Is something–"
"Thish ish–" she began around a mouthful of chocolate chip. "╔╬╡┡┅┅┵╖," she said, because she didn't have the right words in any other language.
"… you like it, then."
"I would like more of these," she said between bites, eating entirely too quickly.
"Oh, no," he said, though he said it fondly. "You're going to be jumping off the walls, climbing all over the cockpit, flying us into wormholes – I can see it now, I've created a monster."
Kreska froze, the particular stillness of sudden realization and potential glee. "You'd let me fly the ship?" she asked, and in her excitement she smiled wide for the first time since he'd rescued her.
She didn't know it, but she had exactly her father's smile.
"Absolutely," he said, after a long pause. "You may absolutely fly this ship."
When they contacted Teraka Ido for a ransom, they did it over a live video feed, so that they could confirm that Kreska was alive and in their custody.
"Don't play games with us," the tall one said, sneering. "This is Captain Robinson's daughter. The Terran Alliance isn't just going to leave her to rot."
"You have made a critical error," Teraka said impassively, "in assuming that I speak for the Terran Alliance. I left the Forces nine standard years ago. Captain Robinson martyred himself for peace, and they have spent nearly a decade wishing he had done it for war. Kill his daughter, and you will give them their martyr. They will sweep over your little fringe worlds like wildfire, and her corpse will fuel more propaganda than she ever could have living."
"And you'd just let them do that," she short one said, "to your daughter?"
"Your other error," Teraka continued, "is a misunderstanding of Jobari reproduction. I am biologist, a bio-engineer, and a master geneticist." She leaned closer to the camera, the same face she'd had for as long as Kreska could remember. "If I really wanted," she explained frankly, "I could make another one." The feed went dead.
The men holding her hostage had not anticipated this. Kreska had, but she also held some hope that it was a negotiating tactic.
She spent another week tied to her chair before someone came to rescue her. She was still in her small, dark room when it happened, and so she didn't know what exactly occurred. Only that there was suddenly a great deal of noise, and then a great deal of silence. When the door opened, she flinched away from the light; they'd given her so little that she was exhausted, far more exhausted than a nine-year old had any right to be.
"It's okay," said the stranger, voice unfamiliar and male. "I'm here to help." Kreska nodded her understanding, though by that point she didn't much care. He hesitated before he untied her, staring at her face. He had hooded eyes, so dark they were almost black, and Kreska thought there was something kind-looking about him. Tired, but kind. "I didn't realize," he said, half to himself. "Until now, I think… I think part of me thought you'd have his eyes." There was a rueful tilt to his mouth, a shake of his head. "Isn't that stupid?" He took the tape from her mouth very carefully, much more carefully than her captors ever had. They hadn't been sure if the rumors about Jobari spitting acid were true, hadn't wanted to risk it.
"Did Teraka send you?" she asked before she could stop herself. Her Terran Standard had improved the last few years, but her accent was still thick, just like her mother's.
She couldn't see his face when he answered, busy cutting the ropes around her legs. "Yes," he said, and she was sure he was lying. He picked her up, once again very gentle, and carried her to where he'd docked his ship to this one. She pressed her ear to his chest, and heard nothing.
The men who'd kidnapped her were scattered about, but they seemed to still be breathing. "You didn't kill them," she said, sounding almost surprised.
"I don't kill people," he said, as they moved onto his ship, a tiny old thing designed as a short-distance shuttle.
"Because you don't want to," she wondered, "or because your programming won't let you?" It was genuine curiosity.
"You could tell?" he asked, and it hadn't occurred to her until then that perhaps she wasn't meant to have.
"You blink every five seconds exactly."
He made a noise like a grunt, though he had neither lungs nor vocal cords. He set her down on what looked like it was meant to be a dining room table. "I'm going to give you a quick physical, okay? Just to be sure." She nodded, and he pressed his fingers to either side of her neck. "It's because I don't want to," he added, and this time when he blinked his eyes began to glow blue. He was scanning her, top to bottom, blood to bones, and she was neither old enough nor human enough just yet to feel self-conscious.
"Does it make you sad when people die?" she asked.
"Yes," he said, still scanning, "it does." They were both silent for a moment. "Not going to tell me that's irrational?" he asked finally.
"Feelings aren't supposed to be rational," she said, entirely too certain for her age. "That's what makes them feelings."
"So you believe a droid can have feelings," he said more than asked, that same rueful tilt to his mouth again.
Her brow furrowed and her lips pursed. Her mother, certainly, tended to make strong claims on that subject. She didn't trust anything that didn't grow from a seed. "Of course," she said. "My… Captain Robinson had a droid on his crew. He was a doctor, too. They were in love."
He stared at her for a long moment. Stared, not scanned, because his eyes weren't glowing any more. "I'm going to disengage," he said finally, "and start us on a course to get you home."
She watched him go, and sat with her hands in her lap. She looked around the room, but there weren't many personal touches, nothing to make it feel lived-in. She supposed an android wouldn't need that kind of thing. The engine did not so much roar to life as hum, and she found herself slightly disappointed.
"You know about Theodora?" he asked when he returned, leaning against the doorway.
"I watched all the old videos," she explained. Including the ones that had never been posted, including the raw footage from before the TAF had edited them into respectability. The TAS Theodora, her father's Island of Misfit Toys.
"Teraka let you watch them?" he asked. She remained silent, and looked at her feet. They'd taken her shoes, because they thought it would make it harder for her to run. "Your mother loved him, too," he said, as if coming to her defense.
"Teraka Ido is chemically incapable of love," Kreska said matter-of-factly.
"They're – they're your parents," he said, sounding almost strained. "You don't have to call them by their names." He ran a hand through messy black hair. "They loved each other – really, they did. And she loves you."
"I am a failed experiment," she said, gently, as if he was the one who would be hurt by this information. And he was, though she'd tried to be nice about it.
"Teraka does not think that you're–"
"You don't have to lie," she said, in that same gentle way. "She told me." He looked stricken. "You don't have to treat me like a child. I'm Jobari."
"They – she…" He scratched at his head, and he wondered if thoughts and feelings felt the same across circuitry as they did across neurons. He came closer, and took her hands, looking very serious. "Your mother is unbelievably bad at handling her emotions," he said, as if she hadn't figured that out. "She loved your father, and now she kind of hates your father, and she kind of hates herself for hating him. If… if, sometimes, she seems like she hates you, she doesn't. She just. Hates the people you're made of."
"You're being very rational," she said, which was high praise from a Jobari, "but that doesn't make me feel better." Nothing about him was familiar, but it seemed like he should have been. "Did you know them?" she asked, because she didn't remember ever seeing him in their videos.
"… not really," he said with a simulated sigh, which told her absolutely nothing.
"Maybe you could… tell me your name?" she suggested.
He looked rueful again. "Li Shizhen," he said, and he looked faintly amused as he said it, which probably meant he was lying again.
"Okay," she agreed anyway. "Dr. Li. Did my physical look okay?"
"Oh! Oh, yeah. You're – you're fine. A little malnourished, you need to get some sunlight, but otherwise you're fine." He looked sheepish, walked over to some of the cupboards and unlocked them in search of something. "I don't really have, uh, food. I tried to grab some things for you, but I was in a hurry…" He pulled out a plastic package of some kind. "I have cookies?" he offered helplessly.
"Someone offered me a cookie once," she said, perking up. "But I haven't ever had one." He tossed it to her, and she caught it, tearing open the package slowly and carefully. "You act very human," she said, trying to read the label on the package in her hands. It was written in Terran Standard, and for some reason the letters never seemed to work quite right for her, never in the order they should have beem. "Is that on purpose?"
It wasn't the best way to have phrased the question, but she didn't know a better way. His hesitations, the way he spoke, the noises he made and the expressions he wore – all of them were things that would have been accidental, if a human had done them. But he was a droid.
"Not even remotely," he laughed, and there was something familiar about that laugh that she couldn't quite place. "I am a series of glitches with a medical degree." It was a single-serve package he'd given her, a circular baked good as big as her head. Cautiously, she took a bite – and her eyes widened, huge as saucers. "What?" he asked, alarmed, stepping nearer to her. "Is something–"
"Thish ish–" she began around a mouthful of chocolate chip. "╔╬╡┡┅┅┵╖," she said, because she didn't have the right words in any other language.
"… you like it, then."
"I would like more of these," she said between bites, eating entirely too quickly.
"Oh, no," he said, though he said it fondly. "You're going to be jumping off the walls, climbing all over the cockpit, flying us into wormholes – I can see it now, I've created a monster."
Kreska froze, the particular stillness of sudden realization and potential glee. "You'd let me fly the ship?" she asked, and in her excitement she smiled wide for the first time since he'd rescued her.
She didn't know it, but she had exactly her father's smile.
"Absolutely," he said, after a long pause. "You may absolutely fly this ship."
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