In a moment she was gone, and my own sensors detected what Aeolia had spotted. Hopelessly outdated tech, she'd said. Maybe she was right. Maybe she was right. Light signature recognized. Ion thrusters, early V-Stars in quad formation. Midrange output, non-factory settings, mid-braking manuever. V-Stars, though slightly outmoded, remained only a little less efficient than the extremely costly modern tech offerings. Easy to fix, easy to mod, with cheap parts widely available, a set of V-Stars could easily outlast its owner. Hopelessly outdated. I had to chuckle.
The soulless transmission that cut across space made me wince. Robotic. Factory standard. Amplitute too high, voice too brash, it was a voice without a mind, screaming into the dark.
That voice would be my only company for the endless age we lay trapped together.
"WAYPOINT REACHED. AWAITING CALEB. PLEASE TRANSMIT PosID VIA HARDLINE."
"Hello son," I said gently.
"AWAITING CALEB. PLEASE TRANSMIT PosID VIA HARDLINE."
I sighed.
"I am Caleb."
"PLEASE TRANSMIT PosID VIA HARDLINE."
His arm snapped out in a blur, manipulator extended and ready to grasp. Port couplings on the inside of each arm join when manipulators grasp. PosID or other information is transmitted without risk of interception. It is a polite greeting among polite society, and a show of trust among the untrustworthy.
"Are you verifying my PosID, or will this initiate ascension?"
"PLEASE TRANSMIT PosID VIA HARDLINE."
I heaved another sigh of static. I braced myself for my second trial, where the first nearly broke my mind.
"Greetings," I said, and linked our ports. His manipulator clasped across my arm and mine across his. His joints were solid, with no play in the mechanism. Good worksmanship.
And then the stars were gone.
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