In response, Mech6.0 held out the holographic card.
* * *
“So … you’re an electrician?” said Tam Sovann, scanning her profile on his portscreen.
Mech6.0 nodded, smiling as she had seen humans do. It had taken her nearly two weeks to set up a net profile and manage to steal some proper work clothes that fit her, even though it went against everything her android code told her. Still, she had done it and she had made her way back to the shipyard and she was here, with a humanoid body and a convincing identity and Dataran’s locket snapped snugly in her pocket.
“And you specialize in classic podships and cruisers, particularly the luxury lines … impressive.” He glanced up again, as if trying to decide if the profile could be believed.
She kept smiling.
“And you’re … mute.”
She nodded.
He squinted suspiciously for a moment before going over her profile again. “Well, we certainly do work on a lot of luxury lines like these…”
Which she knew.
“… and I have been faced with a high turnover of electricians lately.”
Which she also knew.
“I’d have to start you at a base salary, until you prove you can do the work. You understand that.”
She nodded. Having never received a salary before, she did not even know what she would do with that measly base pay.
“All right. Well. Let’s give it a shot,” he said, as if he couldn’t quite believe he was saying it. Mech6.0 wasn’t sure if it was her muteness that had him unconvinced about her, or the fact that her escort body was startlingly attractive, even in her drab work clothing. “And what was your name again?” he said, before flinching at her patient smile. “Right, sorry, uh—” He scanned through her profile again. “Hoshi … Star.”
Mech6.0—no, Hoshi Star nodded.
His eyes narrowed suspiciously, but then he shrugged. “If you say so. Well then. Welcome aboard, Hoshi-mèi. I have a project that I think will be perfect for you. This way.”
She braced herself before rising off the chair. Her personality chip hadn’t synced quite right with the outdated escort body, and Linh Cinder was right—it had caused a peculiar glitch that manifested itself whenever she walked. The effort caused pain to shoot through the wires from her legs to her chest, burning into her synapses. The first time it had happened, she had gasped and collapsed onto the sidewalk and sat trembling on the ground for close to an hour while blinding light flooded her senses.
Pain.
She had never known pain before—androids should not have been able to experience it at all. But she had no doubt that’s what it was. Just as the human brain used pain to recognize when something was horribly wrong, her processor was warning her that this body was not hers. That this combination could not last.
The third time it had happened, she had considered going back to the market and pleading with Linh Cinder to take the body away, but she had ultimately refused to do that, not before she saw Dataran again. With time, the pain was becoming more bearable, even if only because she was learning to compartmentalize it away from the rest of her sensory input.
Clenching her teeth, she pushed herself to her feet and followed Tam-shìfu out into the shipyard.
She began searching for him the moment she stepped into the massive hangar. Her eyes darted from human to human, searching for a graceful frame and an easy smile. She’d been worried ever since she’d left, terrified that he hadn’t fully recovered from the fall into the oil, terrified that she hadn’t gotten to him in time.
Though her gaze darted from one corner of the yard to the other as they walked, there was no sign of the young engineer.
“Here we are,” said Tam, gesturing to the space yacht, the Orion Classic. Over the past two weeks, the exterior had been nearly completed, but Star could guess that the interior still had plenty of work to be done. “This is for one of our premium clients, and he doesn’t want to spare a single expense. But of course, he’s on a tight schedule, as they always are. I’ll track down some electrical blueprints for you. And—ah! You’ll be reporting directly to Wing-jūn here. Dataran, come meet our newest electrician.”
He came around from the front of the ship, a portscreen in his hand and a stylus tucked behind one ear, and a surge of electricity coursed so fast through Star’s body she thought for a moment she would experience an actual meltdown. But she didn’t, and when he politely bowed his head, she remembered to politely bow hers as well.
“It’s nice to meet you,” he said. “You’ll be working on the Orion Classic with us?”
She smiled, but Tam was already waving his hand. “That’s right, she says she’s an expert with the classics. Keep her busy. Let’s see what she can do, all right?” He glanced at the port. “I have to check on the racer. Dataran, do you mind showing her the ropes?”
“Not at all, sir.”
Tam was gone almost before he’d finished talking, and Dataran was chuckling after him. “Don’t take it personally. He’s like that toward everyone.”
His kind smile made the pain of standing recede almost fully from her thoughts, and Star beamed hopefully back.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.”
Lashes fluttering, she opened her lips, but of course there was nothing. Flinching, she patted a hand against her throat. Dataran frowned. “Did you lose your voice?”
She shrugged. Close enough.
“Oh. Then, um. Should I call you…” He frowned, not able to come up with anything appropriate on the spot.
Perking up, she grabbed his sleeve and dragged him back toward the front of the ship, where she gestured up at the name that had been freshly painted on its side. Child of the Stars.
“Uh—Stars? Star?”
When she beamed again, he laughed. “That wasn’t so hard. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Star.”
She tried her best to speak through her eyes, her stretched lips, her trembling fingers, which had released his sleeve and were too afraid to reach for him again. It’s me, she thought, willing him to understand. I’m the one who rescued you. I’m the one who found your locket. It’s me, it’s me, it’s me.
But Dataran just jerked his head toward the landing gear. “Come on, I’ll show you the engine room and how far we’ve gotten in the wiring so far—which isn’t much. We could definitely use your help.”
Before he turned away, he glanced up toward the cockpit windows one level up, and his mouth quirked fast to one side.
Star followed the look.
Ochida Miko and her father were sitting in the cockpit. He appeared to be teaching her something, gesturing at the different controls, but Miko had spotted Dataran outside and didn’t seem to be listening.
Star had a sense that Miko’s bashful smile had not been intended for her, or Miko’s father, to see.
* * *
“Oh, it’s beautiful!” said Miko, sitting on Dataran’s other side.
Star knew that she was talking about the ship that was about to leave the hangar—a sleek, flashy thing that had been commissioned for the annual Space Race to Neptune (which everyone knew was a fallacy—the race officially ended at Jupiter, but the sponsors claimed that didn’t have the same ring to it). It was a beautiful ship, with its elongated thrusters and needle-sharp nose. The painters had outdone themselves, creating a very realistic montage of New Beijing’s skyline across its frame.