“In Media Res”

            Soft piano music floated over the elegant ballroom.  Hardwood floors echoed the sound, reverberating it off a high, painted ceiling.  Large bay windows let in the simulated sunlight.  A great crystal chandelier, dark for the moment, would soon bring sparkling light to the smile of a hundred faces.

            At the large grand piano situated in the farthest side of the room – its top down – sat a young man.  Locks of his jet-black hair were pulled back into a short, unruly ponytail.  Long slender fingers danced over the ivory keys, spilling a sorrowful refrain from the instrument.  He paused to turn a page of the music – an old song, originating on Earth over 100 years ago.  Who was the composer again?  He couldn’t remember the name.           

            Only as he was striking the final notes did he become cognizant of a singer’s voice fading from his ears.  He looked up to see an elegant woman leaning on the piano.  Her soft, blonde hair cascaded down her back in waves; her slender figure accented by a tight, black sleeveless turtleneck and filmy periwinkle skirt.

            “I hope you didn’t mind me singing.  It’s just that it’s such a beautiful song – Gershwin if I’m not mistaken.  I didn’t think anyone still remembered the early jazz greats.”  She arched a quizzical eyebrow at the young man.  “You always surprise me, Ethan.”

            He shrugged nonchalantly.  “It’s not like you’ve never sung for me before.  I played for you every so often back on Tetrion Eight at The Glass Unicorn.  That’s where I found this piece of music originally.”

            She furrowed her eyebrows and leaned on the lid.  “That seems like years ago.  Could it only have been a few days ago that we escaped the space station?”  She closed her eyes and dropped her head a few inches, pulling up one leg.

            “How are Zoe and Dane?” he asked, a look of concern spreading across his face. 

            “Asleep.  I have Jada watching over them.  You know, we’re fortunate they’re alive.  If we hadn’t run across this Embassy ship…” she trailed off quietly.

            “You needn’t remind me, Sophia.  I know very well that we all could have died in the escape.  But what astonished me the most,” and he turned his face towards the keys again, “was that we were even let on this ship.  I don’t even remember coming aboard.”  His fingers resumed their activity again as he was lost in thought.  Suddenly, as a realization came upon him, his eyes grew wide.  “Weren’t you the last one to stay conscious?  Then it was you who made contact!” 

            Sophia’s eyes grew distant, and she averted her gaze.  “Indeed.  It was I who made contact with the Embassy ship; it was the closest to our location.”

            “But, how did you ever get through?  Such grand starships don’t answer distress calls – not to mention that our small craft would hardly be visible…” he stopped abruptly as she pressed a slender finger to his lips.

            “No more questions, Ethan” – she removed her finger – “let’s just say that I have connections in certain areas and a few unpaid debts.”  Spinning quickly on her heels, she glided out of the room.

            He shook his head, smiling.  “Indeed, you become more of a mystery to me every day,” he whispered, shutting the cover of the piano’s keys.  “Computer, dim artificial sunlight to thirty percent,” he said, getting up from the bench as the room darkened visibly, and he walked out.

*                      *                      *

Zoe awoke to dull pain covered in an inky blackness.  Crying out, she put her hand in front of her face, hoping it would appear in her field of vision.  It didn’t.  She felt her face.  Bandages.

Suddenly everything came back to her.  She’d been in a horrible accident.  They’d tried to blast their way out of Tetrion Eight in a shuttle, but not before triggering the automated defense systems.  The cannons had pummeled their small craft until it could stand no more.  Structural integrity had been compromised.  Gas poured into the cockpit from the cooling systems.  Several small explosions had occurred, and when she’d touched her face there was blood.  Then, a particularly violent blast had hit the ship.  The console had exploded; the last thing she remembered was activating the automated distress signal. 

A small shudder rippled down her spine.  She could very well be dead were it not for the others.

As she groped around in the darkness, trying to find something to latch onto so she could get up from what she presumed was an infirmary bed, she heard the soft whoosh of the automated doors, and someone with very heavy footsteps entered the room.  It could only be Jada.

“Get me out of this damn hospital bed Jada, or I’ll rewire you to think you’re a twelve-year old girl,” she said sourly.

“Good evening to you as well,” the android replied.  She heard him set down something beside the bed, then sit down.  “It would be unwise to fulfill your request, Mistress.  Even if I did remove you from your bed, there is nowhere to go.  And I don’t think you’d be up for it after sleeping straight through the last four days anyway.”

            She touched the bandages covering her eyes again, as pain seared through her right temple.  “Sheesh…four days…” she sighed, regaining control of herself as the pain subsided to a dull throb.  “Where are we anyway?” she asked.

            “Our current location is the infirmary: Level 24, Section 17 of the Starship Ladonna.”

            “What!” she snapped to full attention, “You can’t mean the Al Nara Embassy Starship?  You’ve got to be joking!”

“No Mistress, I do not jest.  As you recall, I’m not equipped with an emotional subprocessor.  Also, I would caution you to keep your voice within acceptable levels, Mistress.  Master Dane is sleeping approximately five point two feet from your current location, and I do not believe it would be wise to disrupt his rest.”

She felt a twinge of guilt while swearing several oaths, “Not the kid too?  What about Ethan and Sophia?”  Her voice was thick with worry and regret.  If only she’d been a little better pilot…

“Master Ethan and Mistress Sophia are in good health.  Back to your earlier demand however: I don’t think it would be wise for you to overexert yourself for the time being.”

As if reinforcing Jada’s diagnosis, she went into a severe coughing spell that lasted over a minute.  “Be honest with me Jada.  How bad is it?” she queried in a hoarse tone of voice.

  “You know I am incapable of telling a lie, Mistress.  There are several fractures in your left leg, a puncture in your right lung, a broken right index finger, and a particularly nasty gash above your right eye, among other scrapes and bruises,” he said as she heard the clink of plates and silverware.  “However, now that you are awake, I took the liberty of replicating some nutritional supplements from the ship’s database that are purported to expedite the healing process.”

She laughed inwardly at the android’s strange terminology.  Although by far the most advanced artificial life form she’d ever encountered, endowed with superhuman strength, and a positronic brain that could interface with any know computer system, emotions eluded his advanced intellect.  Not to mention he used words like “nutritional supplement” to describe something as basic as chicken-noodle soup. 

As he guided the spoon to her lips, she recalled when she’d first discovered him.  She’d been scrounging for parts in the Scrapyard when, out of the corner of her eye, she’d spotted an arm hanging limply among the towering piles of refuse.  At first thinking it was a cast-away part from a serving robot, she tried pulling it out, but to no avail.  And so, after a whole day of digging and covered from head to toe in grime and dirt, she’d unearthed the most sophisticated piece of technology ever to be built.  About six feet tall with pale skin, silver-white hair, and a wealth of strange markings and tattoos, the android was spectacular.  She booted up his memory and tried to access it for clues as to its name and function.  But all she could find was one flashing word: J.A.D.A. 

And so, well fed, Zoe felt a weight on her chest that made her so tired.  Damn Jada…must have put a sleeping medicine in the soup… And so she slipped into a dreamless, restful sleep.

*                      *                      *

            Dane had just woken up after a very long sleep – several days longer than Zoe’s.  His body bore no bruises or breaks, however.  In an act of unprecedented emotion, Ethan hugged his little brother tightly to his chest, feeling the weak beat of Dane’s heart.  Weak, but alive and going, he thought to himself.  You never realize what’s the most important until it’s almost snatched away forever.  Do people need a crisis to bring them closer together?

            Sophia stood in the corner, smiling softly while she took in the touching scene.  Zoe was still in her bed, but smiled weakly, while Jada sat close by.  After the brothers broke away, Sophia came up and planted a small kiss on Dane’s forehead.  “I’m glad you’re alright, kid,” she whispered in his ear.  “If you hadn’t made it through this ordeal, I’m not sure what I would have done…” she trailed off, and then stepped away.

            At this point, Zoe started to speak.  “Viewing my condition, I’m in no mood to rush things along; however, how long can we realistically stay aboard this ship?” she asked, indicating the question toward Sophia.

           The woman closed her eyes as if she was suddenly very tired, and leaned against the wall.  “Maybe a week at the best.  The Captain has offered to alter their course slightly and drop us off at Ganymede.  We’ll have to be careful from that point onward,” here she opened her eyes again, “All of us – including Dane – are bound to have bounties on our heads.  And we’re not exactly an inconspicuous group.  How many groups like us can there be who broke into the head of the Omicron Corporation to try and steal files on genetic enhancements, then blasted their way out of Tetrion Eight?  My guess is that we fit the bill.”

            “So what then?  We go into hiding on Ganymede and live in fear of the Omicron Corporation for the rest of our miserable lives?”  This came from Ethan, accompanied by a disgusted tone.  His raven hair fell across his face as he became vehement.  “Sorry, I can’t work with that plan.  I say we charter a ship and get the hell out of Ganymede as soon as we arrive.  There’s no point in waiting to be caught; this time the prey has to outsmart the hunter…”