Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Prism of Winter ❯ If You Give an Android a Drink... ( Chapter 3 )

If You Give an Android a Drink…

I swear, there's a proto-bar somewhere they take cultures from. Every dive on a pissant refueling station in the ass-end of nowhere looks alike. The blue-haired woman signaled the burly bartender for another drink to help clear up the universal mystery. He filled her glass with something purporting to be Scotch, but whose origin may have been on any world. The bar itself was made of the nicked but well-polished dark wood substitute that characterized bars as much as the mirror and ranks of bottles.

'What's a pretty lady like you doing, drinking alone in a place like this?' The woman turned to face the speaker, a pale man with dark hair and a smile that shone, even in the dark and smokey room. His simple, rather dated clothes radiated charm...or what he thought of as charm. And there's the other thing that always turns up in a place like this.

'I'm not interested. Go bother someone else.'

'C'mon, you're the hottest one here. I can take you somewhere...more interesting, if you'd like.' The man slid closer and slipped one hand under her ass.

'I told you to leave me alone!' The woman shot to her feet and delivered a backhand slap that threw the man through the door four feet away.

'Now, Mike, what'd I tell you 'bout that temper? Aren't many people can take a hit from an android like you.' The bartender dried the glass he was cleaning, set it by the tap, and took up the next one. A few customers slid creased bills across the counter and left without their change.

'He had it coming, Duke.' Mike straightened her skirt and tossed back her Scotch. 'You wouldn't believe the pictures the perv tried to send me over the Net.' She shook her head and waved for another refill.

' 'Nother android? You'd never know it, looking at him.' Duke filled the glass and told Mike it would be her last.

'Fine, I'm flying out in two hours, anyway. And guys like him are getting more common these days. They don't like getting stared at or something like that. Well, I should probably get back to the Hart before Chris starts screaming at me. Good night, Duke. I'll see you in a couple months.' The android slapped a handful of cash on the bar and left.

Duke took a discrete drink from the flask in his pocket once she was out of sight. 'Those eyes...she's sexy as hell, but those red eyes just get to you,' he said to himself. 'At least she only comes by four or five times a year.'


'Oi! Mike! Get your ass up here and help me with the Jump.' Chris's voice echoed through the ship's narrow corridors. Mike rolled out of bed, landing on all fours. She hit the doorframe on the way out and the bridge door on the way in.

'Wow, Mike. You look terrible.' Chris spun his chair around and rose to help his partner to her seat. He was pale and lean, as most spacers tended to be, with dark short-cropped hair. Mike dropped into her chair and plugged herself into the ship's computer.

'I'm fine, Chris,' she said. 'Just drank a little too much last night after I met a total jerk in the Jackal's Heart. Give me a minute.' She closed her eyes and lay back. A thin, transparent tube extended from the chair and attached itself to Mike's arm. A faint gurgling and whirring came from her innards and a foul-smelling viscous liquid dribbled into the tube. Chris returned to his seat and turned the ship towards the Jump Point.

'That's better. Where are we going, Chris?' Mike opened her eyes and shook her head to clear it.

'Just our usual run to Cleison. The Orgon gem-corn should do well there; they love sweets.'

'Alright. I'll have the Jump computed in a couple minutes. You could've just let me sleep. you know. The computer can do just fine without me.'

'I tried to compute the Jump, but all I got back was a bunch of swearing about slimey toads in bars.' Chris sighed and unconsciously groped for a flask that was no longer at his hip.

'Ehehehehehe. Sorry about that. I've been forgetting about that ever since I got this body. I have the course laid in and Control says we're sixth in line to Jump.

The line of freighters drifted towards the Jump Point, marked by a series of buoys. One by one, they vanished in brilliant bursts of multi-coloured light. The ship ahead of the Silver Hart Jumped and Mike began her final preparations for the journey to Cleison. She was just about to engage the engines when the klaxon sounded. An order came through on the Control channel: ‘Gundar’s Pride, cut engines and assume your place in the queue.’

A broad-finned golden dart flashed past the Hart. She looked new and very expensive, an amateur’s racing vessel. ‘Sorry, but I’m almost late for an appointment on Cleison. Thanks for letting me go ahead, Silver Hart.’

Mike started from her seat at the voice. ‘You! That jackass from the bar. Get your ass back in line or you’ll be making that jump in two pieces.’

The larger vessel’s engines roared to life and the bridge hummed as the weapons powered up. The Hart leapt forward, overtaking the civilian vessel. The two reached the Jump Point simultaneously and Jumped. The bureaucrat at Control sent a warning to Cleison’s patrol fleet and washed his hands of the matter.


‘Captain Porter, we have received word from Orgon that two queue-jumpers will be arriving in Cleison space within a few minutes. Your orders are to intercept them at the Jump Point and take them into custody. The details on the ships are being transmitted to you now. Command out.’

The rather portly captain saluted Admiral Dickson before cutting the connexion and turned to his first officer, who stood at the helm. ‘Commander Winter, set course for the Jump-Point and ready the guns,’ he ordered.

The younger, thinner officer obeyed, but he paled when the ship profiles came up on the screen. ‘Sir,’ he said, ‘with all due respect, I believe that we may need backup on this. One of those ships is a Striker-class destroyer.’

‘They’re still around? I thought they were all decommissioned after the War thirty years ago.’

‘The Striker herself came through this system two months ago while you were at your brother’s wedding.’ Winter did not mention that the vessel had acquired the nickname of The Old Bitch among police fleets for her android’s personality. As the P-22’s first officer saw it, there was a reason no one had tried to build self-aware ships after the War.

‘Now, now, Commander. I’m sure they’ll be reasonable.’

The Jump Point flared before the words were fully out of the Captain’s mouth. Two ships flew past the waiting P-22 without slowing down. The communications officer picked up the pilots’ conversation and played the audio.

‘Ha, you think that old scow can outrace me?’ taunted a young male voice, obviously belonging to the pilot of the golden racer.

‘Scow!’ The woman flew the destroyer Silver Hart and seemed to have quite a temper. ‘Say that again and I’ll make that slap in the bar look like a fly’s lovetap.’

‘I can’t believe I thought an old lady like you was hot last night. And I hadn’t even drunk anything yet.’

‘You!’ ‘Mike! What are you doing?’ A second male voice broke in. This one sounded more human to Winter. The Hart bucked as all six of its starboard guns opened fire, neatly bracketing the Pride and leaving six lines of molten metal. Her pilot laughed and made a comment about eyesight failing in old age.

The Hart came about to a point to a spot a few kilometers ahead of the Pride. The human’s frantic shouts chilled Winter. ‘Mike, get your hands off that! Oh, damn, where did I leave those override codes?’

‘She shot me! The bitch shot me!’ the Pride’s pilot screamed before anyone knew a shot had been fired. A small section of her dorsal fin had been bitten off by some monstrous maw. A second destroyer, the Argo, pulled into view from Cleison’s direction.

‘What are you up to now, little sister? We leave you alone for a few years and you come back a psychotic maniac.’ The newcomer sounded more amused than angry.

‘Jason! This perv hit on me last night and called me an old lady.’

‘That doesn’t give you the right to shoot him, Micaela. Now, are you two going to come quietly, or will I have to beat some sense into you?’

The two vessels followed the Argo to Cleison where the crews would face a magistrate. Winter sighed at the helm of the P-22 and muttered a malediction against self-aware AIs entrusted with weapons.

Aboard the Hart, Chris turned to his partner and said, ‘I never knew you had a brother. What’s he doing out here?’

‘We don’t talk about him much. They made dozens of AI personalities for the Striker-class, but the second one turned out male for some reason. He always was the responsible one in the family.’ Mike smiled a little. ‘He always wanted to be a cop, and I guess Cleison was hiring some time last year.’


And I present a little something continuing the title, as per the book I borrowed it from:

If you give an android a drink, she'll ask for a gun
If you give an android a gun, she'll look for a target
If an android finds a target, it'll need a coffin
If you provide the coffin, it'll want a funeral
If you throw a funeral, the android will show up
If the android shows up, she'll want a drink