Chapter Text
Though I had technically agreed to assist Preservation Station Security with anything “unusual” that might come up following Lutran’s murder, this was definitely not what I had in mind.
“I still don’t understand why you even have to go to this,” I muttered, not sulking. SecUnits don’t sulk.
“It’s part of my duties as Planetary Admin,” Mensah explained, not quite able to keep the mirth out of her voice. I reviewed the drone data from the intel drone circling our heads and – yep, she was definitely smirking. “The council and I rotate through various social engagements, one of those being outreach with Preservation’s educational establishments.”
We passed two councilors and a few admins I vaguely recognized on our way out of Mensah’s office before taking a left and entering one of the main station levels. I didn’t reply aloud, merely pinged her an acknowledgement in the feed. (We had gone over this a few times already, but hey – it didn’t hurt to try one more time.)
Preservation Station was relatively quiet at this time in the cycle, being between meal periods and with no large passenger transports scheduled to dock until the following cycle. (With no major events coming up to necessitate extra traffic to the planet, the few passenger transports that were inbound were 74% likely to be comprised of mainly Preservation citizens or those with official, pre-arranged business. No, this did not make me feel any better.)
I led us past a few starchy food stalls and toward a moving walkway, dodging around a family whose child was laying on the smooth floor surface, tiny fists beating and legs kicking. From the attempting soothing of its’ exhausted parent, it sounded like the starchy foods (or lack thereof) were the culprit. Ugh.
“I don’t even have any experience with children. Or any educational modules on them.” That was true. “I wouldn’t know what to do. And the threat assessment on the Observation Platform for Nwulo Gas Giant 7 is below 11%. You don’t need me.” Mensah gave me a knowing look, but didn’t reply.
Sure, part of my reluctance might have been out of a desire to get back to Gravity Flux: Falling Forever, a vintage series that ART and I had intended to watch together but had run out of time thanks to the events leading up to RaviHyral (those events being removing centimeters of my limbs through experimental surgery, and in so doing, wasting away several hours of perfectly good media-viewing time).
But I honestly couldn’t see how Mensah thought this could be a good idea. Or, not even good – how she was entertaining this idea at all.
Ok, yeah, I had technically watched over children before. But it certainly wasn’t to ensure their safety while they went on an enriching extra-planetary outing.
I shoved those thoughts to the side and came back to the present to find I had missed several seconds of Mensah talking to me. Rolling back the drone footage, I caught her saying “ -complete faith in your abilities and I feel this will be a good chance for you to experience a different part of Preservation. I know you may not stay here long-term, but I think it would be nice for you to integrate in a new way.” I had caught back up to real time as she continued, “This will also give you a chance to meet two more of my children.”
My organics clenched at that and my ActLikeAHuman code caused me to take a sharp inhale.
Well, that was embarrassing.
“You didn’t mention that your children would be attending this trip,” I said. My voice sounded clipped and agitated, even to my own ears, and I felt a little bad. But not that bad.
Mensah just chuckled. “Of course not, I didn’t need to give you another thing to be anxious about.” She stopped in front of a planetary transport shuttle, then turned to face me (though she kept her gaze trained over my shoulder, because she knew me well).
“I do understand your reluctance. I imagine it must be quite a change, to go from…occasionally monitoring indentured youth in a corporate setting to chaperoning Preservation children on a recreational trip. But no one will be expecting anything of you, except to just be there. The children might be a bit curious at first as you will be a visitor they haven’t met before, but they will respect your desire for space.”
I mean, sure. That was part of it. But the “being there” at all was the big problem. Didn’t she realize that bringing a SecUnit into a roomful of children was sure to leave them terrified? We were the entertainment feed equivalent of an unknown hostile fauna in their habitation’s clothing storage.
Whatever, I could tell I wouldn’t be able to change her mind. The shuttle doors released and slid open, effectively ending the conversation as my risk assessment spiked due to the presence of a human already onboard the shuttle, which I hadn’t been expecting.
But then it immediately dropped down again, almost quicker than I could process. I didn’t understand why until I identified the familiar silhouette tossing a duffel bag into the luggage rack.
Thank fuck. Ratthi was excellent at emotions and socializing, and 83% of unknown humans I had witnessed him communicating with were instantly charmed by him. It stood to reason that this would be the same among juvenile humans. Risk assessment felt better about this trip already.