Fantastic Feudal Fusion by ladybattousai
Stardust
Stardust
“To love someone is madness, to be loved by someone is a gift, loving someone who loves you is a duty, but being loved by someone whom you love is life.”
Somewhere near the red giant in the X1039 system
Date 12.18.2489
Kagome felt nothing but darkness. Like an endless emptiness that stretched on without even a horizon to define it. It was cold, numbing, and completely tranquil. She floated listlessly beneath its surface, and neither shivered nor yearned for anything but the darkness. Its eternal peace was all that she knew or remembered. How could she want more?
A glimmer of light penetrated the surface, giving the emptiness something it never had before, substance. It was sunlight filtering through her deep ocean, and suddenly the cold chilled her skin. The numbing sensation subsided. She had legs and arms. She felt her heart thumping in her chest, and there was something tight strapped to her face.
The emptiness shrank. She reached out and her fingers squeaked along the glass walls of her coffin. Disoriented, she started to panic. Her heart raced and she couldn’t breathe. She had to get out.
Instinctively, Kagome felt up, searching for a waterproof pad of buttons. Her mind was still a fog, and she couldn’t remember why she was meant to look there. But when her fingers felt the pad, she knew she was right. Without thinking any further, she typed in several buttons, and then pressed the large one.
The drain at the bottom of the tank belched a stream of bubbles and the liquid surrounding her started to empty. Slowly she sank, her body feeling strangely heavy when she finally touched the bottom. How long had it been since she last felt gravity?
On the side of the tank, a set of glowing readouts were revealed. Oxygen levels, temperature, and other life support conditions. All of them read normal. Kagome looked out the walls of her tank. Her mind was starting to clear. She was in an amniotic stasis pod designed for deep space travel.
Beyond the glass, cool white lights flickered, sporadically illuminating a sterile-looking room. On either side, there were more pods, and through the pink liquid filling them, she could see other bodies floating in suspended animation. A headache brewed behind her temples. She remembered a mission, a reconnaissance operation.
Her throat felt thick, clogged. She felt around the mask covering her mouth and nose. Long tubes protruded from it and hooked up to a junction at the top of the tank.
Done with being huddled in the pod, she removed the plugs protecting her ears and started to detach the mask. The long tubes were inserted far into her lungs and stomach, and as she pulled them out, a nauseating sensation swept over her. Mucus coated the tubes, and when they were out, she coughed and retched into the drain. She choked on her breath. How long was the last time she breathed on her own?
Once she was unhooked, she checked the life support levels again to be safe, and then reached for the hatch on the side of the tank. The release lever was attached to a circular valve. She pulled the lever down and used it as a handle to unscrew the valve. The seal on the hatch started to loosen, and when it wiggled freely, she stopped and pushed the door open.
The acrid smell of burnt synthetics struck her. There was a faded haze of smoke filling the room. Kagome glanced at the readouts again. They were normal. There wasn’t anything poisonous or dangerous awaiting her, but something was definitely wrong. She pulled herself out of the hatch. The air was freezing and her wet body started to shiver. She opened a non-descript panel across from the pods and found thermal robes folded neatly on shelves inside. Wrapping herself in one of the soft garments, she felt instantly warmer. After a grateful sigh, she started to look around with renewed interest.
There were three other pods in the room, each one occupied. The people inside of them floated motionlessly, trapped in suspended animation. The endless darkness held them firmly, not one muscle twitched. But why had she woken up? Kagome approached her pod. At first, it looked fine, but as she examined the far side, her mouth dropped. Long scorch marks sprayed out of the control box and across the wall behind the pod. Between the melted wiring and molten hunks of metal and synthetics, the damage was gruesome. She was lucky that the malfunction hadn’t damaged the pod itself, or else chances were that she wouldn’t have ever woken up.
“Computer?” she called out.
Silence.
“Computer?” She glanced around the room.
Silence.
“This isn’t good,” she said under her breath. The intercom must be damaged too. She headed for the only exit, a metal door at the end of the room. Beside it there was a control panel and she tapped the green button on the interface. And while she hoped to hear the pneumatic hiss of the door opening, it did no such thing. She hit the button a few more times. The door stayed anchored shut. “Figures,” she muttered.
Kagome dug her fingers under the edges of the control panel and popped it off. There she found the problem; more melted wires. Behind them was a lever connected to a wheel which closely resembled the one she used to open her pod hatch. It must be the manual release. Reaching in, she grabbed the lever and used it to turn the wheel. Slowly with every revolution, the door inched open, and when it was wide enough for her to squeeze through, she escaped.
Kagome stepped out into a long corridor lit orange by emergency lighting. By the long, cylindrical framework, she definitely knew she was on a ship, but as she looked warily in each direction, anxiety started to ache in her belly.
“Computer?” she called out again, unsurprised when it didn’t reply. She had to find the bridge, and hopefully there she could access the computer and determine the damage to the ship and whether or not she could repair it. Going with her gut, she chose to go left.
The grating on the metal walkway dug into her bare feet as she hurried down it, but after a short set of steps, she caught sight of a brighter light at the top of a ladder. Nimbly, she climbed the ladder and found another metal door. As she expected, the control panel didn’t work, and she yanked it off and opened the door manually.
Inside was a small room with a crescent moon, console array of controls, and at the center of them was a small, flat disc. Beyond the rows of buttons, gauges and switches was a large window that looked out into star-speckled space. She was on the bridge.
“Computer?”
A speaker beneath the disc crackled, and a halting, baritone voice spoke. “Open panel.”
“What?”
“Open panel.”
“What panel?” Kagome scanned the bridge. With a half dozen panels on the back wall alone, it was more of a question of which rather than what.
“Open panel.”
“I guess I’ll just open them all.” She started to pull one of the rear ones off.
“Incorrect,” it stated with a hint of disdain.
“All right.” She reached for another one, and once she started to pry at it, the voice spoke up again.
“Incorrect.”
She snorted, not particularly appreciating the condescension in its tone. “You know, you could be more polite.”
“Open panel.”
She sighed. The chastising continued as she made her way around the bridge. Soon she came to the panel beneath the console that had the disc. As she started to remove it, she expected to hear the usual reprimand.
“Disconnect ribbon wire.”
Kagome blinked.
“Disconnect ribbon wire.”
“Got it. Got it.” She peered into the compartment. There was a melted maze of components and amid them; she spotted the singed, ribbon wire. Grabbing it where it was coupled to the circuitry above, she wiggled it free.
“Rerouting… Rerouting…”
A silvery blue, holographic image flickered above the disc. A handsome, masculine face, he looked rather exotic with features like pointed ears, tribal tattoos and slit pupils, reminding her of the alien species known as youkai.
“Are you the computer?” she asked.
“Incorrect, Lieutenant Higurashi,” he replied. His voice was smooth and even now. “I am the Sentient Short-Wave Magisterial Routine.”
“What?” she said quizzically as she silently noted her rank. So she was a lieutenant and her last name was Higurashi. Somehow it seemed perfectly right.
“I am the Sentient Short-Wave Magisterial Routine.”
Kagome shook her head. “And what does that mean?”
“I am an independent program whose objective is to run and maintain this ship while guaranteeing the success of its missions. I am the ultimate authority whose commands must be heeded by the crew at all times.”
“The ultimate authority, huh?”
“Yes.”
“You outrank even the crew?”
“Yes.”
Kagome frowned. “How can a program outrank the crew?”
“Your concerns must be addressed at another time, lieutenant. The ship has suffered severe damages, and I have limited resources with which to repair them.”
She nodded. “What happened to the ship?”
His image vanished and was replaced with a three-dimensional star chart. In between the glowing specks that marked different star systems was a dotted line which began with a numbered planet and ended with Earth. “In order to expedite our return to Earth, our route has taken us through the X1039 system.” The chart zoomed in on that system, revealing a massive red star and the smaller gas giants that orbited it. The dotted line swung close to the star before barreling off into space. “We neared close to the red giant with the intention of refilling our power cells and to use its gravity to slingshot the ship. This maneuver is normally safe. However to our misfortune, a stellar flare erupted from the star’s corona and flung dangerous quantities stellar material and radiation in our direction. There was no way to evade it.”
“Radiation?” she said apprehensively.
“Our magnetic shields deflected most of it, and the radiation failsafe has sanitized the rest. The present levels are negligible. The flare however, did substantial damage to the ship itself. A wide swath of circuitry and essential components have been damaged or destroyed, including my self-repair equipment.”
“You can’t repair the ship?”
“Not physically.”
Kagome sighed. “Then what are we going to do?”
“You will serve as my self-repair equipment, lieutenant.”
“What? I don’t know anything about repairing ships. I’m a…” Her mind went blank. Why couldn’t she remember?
“I will guide you. Without these repairs, we will not be able to complete our voyage to Earth. The mission will fail, and you and the rest of the crew will perish.”
She bit at her lip. Her life and the lives of the crew depended on her. “How long will it take to fix the ship?”
“After analyzing your skill sets, learning capabilities and general work performance, the ship should be fully functional within eight months, two weeks, three days and fifteen hours.”
“And then I can go back into stasis?”
There was a long pause, and then the holographic projection turned into a list. “Here are your first duties. As of this moment, our sensors are not functioning and neither are our evasive maneuver thrusters. We have no way to evade debris in space which could result in critical damage to our ship.”
“All right. What do I need to do?”
The holograph flickered back into the image of his head. “In the long corridor near the ladder leading up to the bridge, there are a series of storage compartments. Inside one is a case filled with electronic repair tools. Retrieve that and head to the airlock. There you will repair my remote interface and put on one of the spacesuits stored there.”
“I’m going outside the ship?!” she blurted out anxiously.
“The sensor array on top of the vessel is unresponsive. You need to assess the damage so that we can begin repairs.”
“But in space? I’m going out into space to fix this thing?”
“Yes. I have determined from your statistical data that you have adequate physical strength and intelligence to complete this task.”
“That’s your reassurance? I’m adequate.”
“At worst, the psychological trauma should be minimal.”
“You know,” she said, pointing back and forth between herself and his image. “I think the first repair needs to be your people skills.”
“My human relations protocol is undamaged, lieutenant.”
“You’re ordering me to do something dangerous. You should at least say ‘please’.”
“You are being unnecessarily obstinate,” he replied. “By stating that you will be able to complete this task, I am implying that you will be safe and capable for all intensive purposes. It will do the mission harm if I were to demand that you carry out an order which would result in your demise. But if it will soothe your human sensitivities, I command you to do the aforementioned task, please.”
Kagome growled under her breath and headed for the ladder. This was going to be a long eight months.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Date 12.20.2489
Two days after awakening
Kagome walked down the hull of the long spaceship. Like a massive, metal butterfly gliding through the night, its long, solar panels flared out on either side, gathering what photons of light it could from the vast darkness. Beyond the ship, millions of stars surrounded her like specks of glittering paint on a black canvas.
With every step, she felt the grip of her electromagnetic boots engaging and releasing, keeping her grounded. A tether floated in front of her, guiding her toward the airlock, and every so often she pressed a switch on her suit which gathered up the excess into a coil attached to her belt.
Soon she was at the sealed, exterior hatch on the underside of the ship. Kagome knelt down and typed in a command on the control panel. She couldn’t hear the motor running in the vacuum of space, but she could feel it vibrate under her boots. Slowly the hatch opened and when the gap was large enough, she leapt in.
Her boots sucked her down and she landed firmly inside the airlock. She hit the button on the wall and the hatch started to close. Once it was sealed, the artificial gravity field engaged and vents started to pump air into the airlock. Kagome watched the oxygen meter fill until there was a loud buzz signaling that it was safe to remove her suit.
Kagome pulled off her helmet and shook her tousled, black hair. The youkai image of the computer program appeared on a screen in the airlock.
“Please report, lieutenant” he said.
“The sensor array looks good,” she replied as she removed her gloves and unzipped her suit. “The replacement parts are installed and it’s relaying data accurately. I got a good look at the evasive maneuver thrusters. They’re still physically intact, so it might be just a circuitry issue.”
“Indeed.”
“Uh, Sentient Short-Way…”
“Sentient Short-Wave Magisterial Routine,” he corrected.
“All right, that’s it,” she said with her hand on her hip. “You’re getting a new name.”
“A new name?”
“Yes, I’m not calling you Sentient Short-Whatever every time I talk to you, sir.”
“I do not require a new name.”
“How about SSMR?”
“That is not my name.”
“Yeah, I don’t like it much either,” she said pensively. “It’s too awkward to say. Maybe if we just shorten Sentient Short-Wave Magisterial Routine phonetically. Let’s see… Sen-Show-Maj-Roo…”
“What are you doing?”
“I’m abbreviating your name so that it flows together like a real name. Like a nickname.”
“Hn.”
“Did you just snort at me?”
“No.”
Kagome smirked. “Sure you didn’t. Se-Sho-Maj-Roo… Sessho-Ma-Ru… Sesshoumaru…”
“Sesshoumaru?”
“Yeah,” she said, and her smirk turned into a smile. “I like it.”
“Hn.”
She giggled.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Date 03.16.2490
Nearly three months after awakening
Carrying a coil of cable over her shoulder and an oddly-shaped component on her hip, Kagome walked down the main corridor. Softer than her clanging steps on the metal walkway, she hummed a nameless song under her breath. She hardly noticed the tune. It was a purposeful ignorance. Her memory was still a haze, and if she thought too much about the song, a part of her feared that she might lose it. Instead she let it flow naturally, enjoying it from the back of her mind.
On her left, she came upon the stasis chamber. She had passed it by many times since her awakening four months ago, each time under an order to fix this or carry that. Like her song, she hadn’t given the room much thought either. As if there was something here to lose too.
Her footsteps stopped and her song disappeared.
But there was something about the room this time. Something that compelled her to set her cable and component down. Something that drove her to squeeze through the gap in the door.
The inside of the room was just as Kagome remembered. The lights flickered and she could still smell the burnt synthetics, though it wasn’t as strong as it was before. She walked around the room, spending most of her time peering into each of the amniotic pods. Through the murky liquid, she could make out the bodies. There was a young woman with long, dark hair, a young man with short hair bound back in a small ponytail, and another young man with long, white hair and a strange set of ears atop his head. Her chest tightened when she looked at him floating. Hot tears started to stream down her cheeks, and she didn’t know why. He must mean something to her, but she couldn’t remember. Why couldn’t she remember?
Anger and frustration overwhelmed her, and she turned away, crying and muttering. A large screen in the room flicked on. It was Sesshoumaru.
“Lieutenant, what is your status on repairing the hydro-converters?”
Kagome avoided the screen. She didn’t want him to see that she had been crying.
“Lieutenant, please respond.”
Silence.
“Lieutenant, respond!”
“Why can’t I remember who I am, sir?”
Sesshoumaru furrowed a brow. “What?”
She dried her cheeks with the back of her hand and then faced him. “Why can’t I remember who I am? It’s been four months. I should remember something by now, shouldn’t I? Something more than my name and the fact that I was on a reconnaissance mission, right? What’s wrong with me?”
“It is an unnecessary concern. All that matters is the mission. Please continue repairing the hydro-converters.”
“No!” she said vehemently. “I don’t care if you think it’s an unnecessary concern. I want to know! Tell me what’s wrong with me!”
Sesshoumaru eyed her, measuring her resolve.
With her arms crossed, Kagome waited.
“Very well,” he finally replied. “Your memory loss is the result of your abrupt revival from stasis. It is not an uncommon ailment considering the length of your sleep prior to awakening.”
“I woke up too quickly?”
“Indeed. You were unconscious for approximately fifty-three years. For that length of time, days are required for a safe revival. You were revived in two hours.”
Kagome placed her hand over her mouth. “Two hours? Why?”
“The stellar flare caused severe damage to your pod’s controls. It could no longer maintain suspended animation and automatically followed the protocol of reviving you immediately. If it had not, you would have died.”
She nodded, and then a thought struck her. “How damaged is my pod, sir?”
“I have answered your questions about your memory loss, lieutenant. It is time for you to return to your duties. The hydro-converters must be repaired or our water reserves will run dangerously low. This includes your water for consumption as well.”
“The hydro-converters have been offline for four months. They can wait a few minutes longer. What I want to know is why won’t you answer my question?”
Silence.
“How damaged is my pod, sir? I’m not leaving until you tell me.”
Sesshoumaru watched her, his expression as cold as his demeanor. “It is irreparable.”
“What?”
“It is irreparable.”
“How can that be?”
“The amniotic pods are sensitive pieces of equipment with unique components, components that are not usually carried by spaceships of this nature. There is no way to repair it.”
Kagome stumbled back, her face white. “You said I’d be able to return to it after eight months. You lied to me.”
“I informed you that repairs to the ship will take eight months, two weeks, three days and fifteen hours. At no point did I mention the opportunity for you to return to stasis. It is not possible.”
“But you avoided telling me!”
“That is not lying, and I withheld that information in the interest of the mission. You have proven to be volatile and emotional. There was a substantial chance that you might not continue the work necessary to repair the ship.”
“You’ve got that right!” she yelled. “You said fifty-three years have passed. How long is the voyage? How long will it be before we reach Earth?”
“This has no relevance…”
“How long will it be before we reach Earth?!”
“Lieutenant, you…”
“Tell me!”
“One-hundred and thirteen years.”
Kagome felt her knees give out and she collapsed onto the floor. “One-hundred and thirteen years,” she repeated softly.
“I have examined all possible route alternatives, and there are none shorter. My apologies, Lieutenant Higurashi.”
Fresh tears streaked her face, and this time she didn’t care if he saw.
“You are upset. This was not my intention.”
She laughed bitterly under her breath. “At least you’re not malicious then.”
“I would never be.”
“I think I need some time alone.”
His brow furrowed. “I am not certain if that is wise in your present emotional state. It would be unfortunate if you decided to do something ill-advised.”
“Don’t worry,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m not going to kill myself. Your mission won’t be in jeopardy. Besides even if I meant to do it, it’s not like you could stop me anyway.”
“Hn.”
“So can you go? I want to think.”
He paused a long moment and then replied. “Very well, lieutenant.” The screen turned black.
Kagome let out a hefty sigh. One-hundred and thirteen years, what was she going to do?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Date 03.19.2490
Three months after awakening
Lost in the limitless expanse of her empty dreams, Kagome slept. It felt comfortable. Safe. In it, she could forget about reality, and right now, that’s all she wanted to do. She wanted to escape the ship, him and her bleak destiny.
“Lieutenant?” a voice called out.
She mumbled and her nose crinkled.
“Lieutenant Higurashi?”
One eye winked open. Lying on a bed of thermal robes and other clothes, she was curled up in an empty supply closet. Away from any screens and shrouded by darkness, she felt safe from the program’s harassment. But feeling and being are often two different things. She sighed. Why did she leave the door open?
From somewhere in the well-lit corridor, Sesshoumaru called out again. “Lieutenant, you cannot hide from me. I can conduct a wide variety of scans. It is impossible to evade me for long.
Kagome groaned.
“Indeed.”
“What do you want, sir?” she growled.
“Aside from you returning to duty, I have determined that you have not been meeting your necessary nutrient and hydration needs for a human of your size and age.”
“I don’t want to eat or drink, so leave me alone.”
“That is impossible. I cannot ‘leave you alone’ when you are damaging your health. The mission…”
“Ugh,” she muttered in frustration and pulled a wad of robes over her head.
“Lieutenant?”
“Leave me alone! I don’t know how I can be clearer! I don’t care anymore! There’s no point to it.”
“But the mission…”
“It doesn’t matter to me!”
“It should. This ship, our mission and our crew will perish without your assistance.”
“And why should I care about it or them, sir? I can’t remember the mission or the crew. I can’t remember hardly anything at all!”
Sesshoumaru was quiet, processing her argument.
“Do you understand now? Are you going to leave me alone?”
Silence.
Kagome sighed and closed her eyes again, ready to slip back into the numbing peace of sleep.
“Lieutenant?”
She knew it wouldn’t be that easy. “What?!”
“I have something to show you.”
“I don’t want to see it. You can’t trick me anymore.”
“This is not a trick, lieutenant. Please come with me. If what I show you will not persuade you, then you may hibernate for as long as you like.”
“You won’t bother me anymore?”
“No, and you have my word on that.”
Kagome frowned, thinking over his request. As evasive as he had been in the past, there was something genuine about what he was asking now. Curiosity took hold of her. It wouldn’t hurt to just look at what he was offering.
She clambered to her feet and ambled out of the closet, her hair oily and a mess. She could see Sesshoumaru’s image on a screen not far down the corridor, and from his impassive expression, he didn’t seem to care much about her appearance.
“Follow the main corridor towards the aft of the ship,” he directed. “Thirty-two meters down, you will reach a large door on the right. Open it. I will await you there.” The screen turned off.
“Succinct as always,” she said to herself and started down the corridor. Counting a meter with every full stride, Kagome arrived at the door in no time. Three times wider than the other doors on the ship, this one was a pair of twin doors which met together with a series of interlocking teeth. She’d passed it many times while she completed repairs throughout the ship and wondered what exactly was behind it. But Sesshoumaru being the task master that he was, she’d never actually had the chance to look.
Kagome pulled off the control panel and started to manually crank it open. All of the doors on the vessel were physically damaged, which meant, they all had to be fixed independently, a notion that still irritated her. Slowly the teeth separated and the door opened. When there was enough room, she slipped through.
Inside was an enormous cargo bay. From the outside of the ship, she had noticed it had a rather large belly, which seemed off considering how small and cylindrical the corridors were inside. Lined up in long rows were silver cargo containers resting on black, anti-gravity palettes. The containers ran the entire length of the bay, double-stacked in places.
“What is this?” she murmured.
“It is our mission,” Sesshoumaru replied.
Kagome turned around, following the voice. She spotted his image on a screen above a computer interface. “And what is our mission?”
“A complicated answer. We are outgrowing our Solar System. Humans and youkai are more numerous than ever before and our resources are feeling the strain. Earth, its moon, Mars and many of the moons orbiting the larger gas giants like Jupiter and Saturn are being used at their fullest, renewable capacity. We need to spread out.”
His image vanished and a star map flashed onto the screen. Red dots marked a dozen coordinates on the black background.
He continued. “A reconnaissance ship was sent to each of these points, systems which showed promise of not only being feasibly close by but being rich enough in resources to be worth the effort. You and three others; Lieutenant Sango, Lieutenant Commander Miroku and Captain Inuyasha, were sent to Stellar System 13579 and more specifically to the fourth planet from its star.
“Initial scans proved that not only is it the same size as Earth, but it has an atmosphere comprised of mostly nitrogen and oxygen which is essential for supporting Earth-originated life.
“You and the crew landed there, conducted experiments and collected samples over the course of three years. Behind you are those samples. They are mostly comprised of sediment, atmosphere, water, and plant and animal specimens.”
Kagome nodded. As he explained, she felt pieces of her memory returning like a puzzle. It helped to hear it. It helped to know why she was here. “Is this what you wanted to show me, sir?” she asked when he was done.
Sesshoumaru’s image returned. “It is more than that, lieutenant. This computer interface will grant you access to every log and other documentation about this mission. It is read only, so even I cannot edit it, but it is my trust that you will find what you are missing here, and perhaps discover a renewed resolve to finish what you and others have started.”
Kagome approached the interface, a touch screen pad, and scanned through the options until she found a link to the crew. She accessed it and found her name. Sesshoumaru’s image disappeared, replaced by a profile picture of her and details about her life.
“I was the ship’s botanist,” she said.
“Yes, and a tenacious one at that.”
She giggled. Then her amusement sobered to a smile. “And I was married to Captain Inuyasha.”
“Yes.”
“This is amazing.,” she said, scrolling through the information. “I feel like all of this is right, even though I can’t really remember it. Because deep down, I know it’s true.” She looked at her profile picture. In it, she looked so bright and determined, and strangely enough, it’s what she felt now. “Sesshoumaru?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
A long pause passed. “You are welcome.”
She grinned.
“I will leave you be now,” he said. “When you are ready to return to your duties, please inform me.”
“I will.”
“And, lieutenant, consume your required nutrients and water shortly. You are a constant cause for concern.”
Kagome laughed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Date 8.13.2490
Nearly four months after awakening
With a head band light tightened around her forehead, Kagome peered into the gap left by the missing door control panel. On a portable shelf beside her, she had a host of tools, wires and wadded chunks of melted junk. She carefully reached in and put in the final replacement wire. When it was secured, she examined her work, making sure that everything was exactly where it was supposed to be.
Kagome nodded, pleased with her work. This ship had enough doors, so she ought to be an expert at fixing them by now. She reaffixed the panel over the gap and tapped the open button. With a pneumatic hiss, the door opened. “Good,” she said triumphantly.
“Have you completed your final repair, lieutenant?” Sesshoumaru asked.
Kagome looked past the open door and at him on the screen in the corridor. “It’s all done. The last door is fixed and working properly.” She took in a deep breath, remembering all the work she had poured into the ship over the last eight and a half months. “I’m finished, sir.”
He bowed his head slightly. “You have performed and completed all of your tasks excellently,” he said before adding chidingly, “despite your initial delays.”
“Look, I was depressed…”
“I am as you humans call it, kidding you.”
“I know you are! You’re such a dick for being a computer program, sir.”
“Yes, I am, but it must be said that my newly acquired bad habits are clearly derived from my association with you.”
“You know what…?!” she began, and then she noticed his smirk. “You’re so bad!”
He chuckled.
Kagome groaned. “Are you done, because I’ve got a serious question now?”
“Yes, I am, lieutenant. Please tell me of your concern.”
“All right. Now that the ship is repaired and it will in all likelihood reach Earth without any further issues, what am I supposed to do? I can’t go back into stasis.” Her voice started to crack. “So I’m essentially going to live out the rest of my life on this ship with nothing to do. I won’t have a purpose.”
“You will be alive however. We have enough renewable resources to maintain your existence.”
“But that’s just it… All I’ll be doing is existing. I can’t live that way. I’d rather… die.” She sighed, working up the nerve to ask the real question. “Could you help me with that? With dying?”
Sesshoumaru didn’t respond. His eyes were wide and if there was any color to his monochromatic face, it would have drained away.
“Sesshoumaru?”
“I will not aid you in ending your existence. I cannot.”
She looked at him, disappointed. “Why? It’s simple, isn’t it? I don’t have a purpose any more. I’ll just waste away out here in space. As a computer program, you must see why I want to do it. Why it might be a good idea.”
“But I cannot.”
“I don’t understand, sir.”
“I do not want your existence to end now. I cherish your presence.”
“What?”
“I cherish your presence. I enjoy your exuberance and mirth. Your strange emotions. Your arguments and perspectives. If you were to perish, I would lose that. I would lose your companionship.”
“You’re attached to me? That doesn’t seem very much like something a computer program does.”
“I do not understand it myself, but I do know that I cannot kill what brings me… happiness.”
His reply struck her hard. Happiness? She makes him happy? “I didn’t know.”
“And neither did I until this moment,” he admitted. “But, I will find you a purpose. Please wait.”
The screen went blank.
Kagome sighed and started to put her tools away. He was going to find her a purpose, a reason to keep living even though there was no place or no one to live for, except perhaps for him. She’d wait. He deserved that much, and if he didn’t find something for her that was worth staying for, she wouldn’t burden him with her plans to be done with her life.
Sesshoumaru’s image returned, surprising her. “Lieutenant, please go to Laboratory 3.”
“Ye-Yes, sir.”
“Thank you.” He vanished again.
Leaving her tools behind, Kagome turned down the corridor and headed toward the bow of the ship where the experimentation labs were located. Soon she came across a door with a sign designating it as Laboratory 3. She typed on the control panel and the door slid open.
Inside were long, metal tables and a series of cabinets lined the walls. There was a sterility to the room, a pureness. It looked as though it had never been touched let alone used. On the far wall was another screen, and Sesshoumaru appeared as she expected.
“It’s a nice laboratory,” she said, not particularly optimistic.
“It will do,” he replied.
“What do you expect me to do with it?”
“Months ago, you were lost without your memories until your past was returned to you. Now you are lost again. Knowing who you are is important, but being who you are is even more essential. It is time for you to be Lieutenant Kagome Higurashi again.”
She looked at him quizzically. “How?”
“To properly survey the planet in System 13579, experiments were performed using domestic seeds native to Earth, primarily those that are the foundation of the human and youkai diet. This laboratory served as the state of the art, hydroponic greenhouse to test the soils and light levels found on the planet. All of those supplies are still here.”
“You want me to grow a garden?”
“You may use this place however you wish. All of your discoveries and theories are documented, but with only three years of research, you have only scratched the surface of what can be learned. Imagine what you can do with a lifetime. You will not simply exist if you continue your life here. If the planet in System 13579 is a viable solution to our resource concerns, then your work will help the future of both humanity and youkaikind. It is a noble life.”
Kagome snorted and shook her head. “I can’t believe you found something, but I think I see it.”
“It is worth it,” he assured her.
“Yeah, it is.”
“But it will still be a long and difficult life.”
“I know, but it’s something. Something I can be proud of.”
Sesshoumaru smiled faintly.
“Thank you,” she said. “And you know, as much as you cherish me, I think I cherish you.”
“Of course… Kagome,” he replied, and the screen turned off.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Date 12.19.2511
Twenty-two years after awakening
Kagome stepped into the airlock and closed the door behind her. Wearing her bulky spacesuit, her movements were surprisingly agile as she made her way to the control panel beside the ship’s exterior hatch. There she typed in the code, a set of commands that she couldn’t forget even if she wanted to.
The alarm in the airlock started to buzz and there was a whoosh as air was sucked out through the vents. Soon, there was only the vacuum of space left, and without anything for sound waves to travel on, the buzzing alarm died away. It was only inside her helmet that she could hear anything; the rasp of her respirator flushing fresh oxygen into her mask and her sighs as she breathed it in.
The artificial gravity field disengaged and her electromagnetic boots kicked in, keeping her firmly planted. A warning light switched on, and the exterior hatch started to open. Kagome climbed up the ladder leading out of the hatch, an easy endeavor considering she was weightless, and then she began to walk along the skin of the ship.
There was something comforting and refreshing about the vastness of space. Perhaps it was its limitless boundaries. She was after all on a cramped ship with tight corridors and small rooms. Being out here let her breathe again. It reminded her that her existence wasn’t just confined to a tiny ship. Today however, was a little different.
A brilliant, white glow glinted off the ship. Kagome’s tinted visor darkened and she looked out across the emptiness at a nearby star burning in the distance. It wasn’t much compared to most stars, but it was definitely more than the sparkling specks deep in space that she often gazed at.
Sesshoumaru’s voice crackled over the radio in her helmet. “How does the white dwarf look, Kagome?”
“It’s beautiful,” she replied.
“Hn,” he snorted. “Good.”
“I’m glad that we got the chance to pass by it. Space is wonderful, but it’s so spread out.”
“It did not require much to change our trajectory for this. I am glad that it pleases you.”
Kagome smiled. “Thank you.” Then she sighed happily. “Stars are just so amazing.”
“Yes. The building blocks of the universe.”
“Aren’t they? They start out as hydrogen and gravity. Gravity pulls the hydrogen down so violently that the atoms start to fuse with each other. As helium is created, a nuclear reaction happens and energy is released. Over and over, these reactions occur, and a balance is struck between the pull of gravity and the explosive energy of nuclear fusion. And from that a star is born.”
“Indeed.”
“But eventually a star uses up all of its hydrogen, and it has to start fusing helium. It’s not as efficient, and when that’s gone, it has to create heavier and heavier elements until its diminished nuclear reactions succumb to the relentless pull of gravity. The bigger stars explode as novas or supernovas and become neutron stars, but this one was too small, wasn’t it?
“Yes. The smaller stars such as our own Sun will never explode. They do not have sufficient mass. Instead they will simply collapse and burn faintly as white dwarfs until they die.”
She sighed wistfully. “No matter what it is, everything dies. Even the stars.”
He heard the pain in her voice. It would seem that no one understood their own mortality better than her. She and that white dwarf out there were not that different as they finished their lives in the solitude of space. There was though, more to it than that.
“That does not mean there is nothing,” he said. “If stars did not die, we would not exist.”
“What do you mean?”
“As you said, the first element was hydrogen. Inside a star, that hydrogen fuses to become helium, carbon, nitrogen and a multitude of other small elements. Now if a star is massive enough, it will at the end of its life produce iron. It lasts for only a moment, because iron is too heavy for efficient fusion. Gravity wins, and the star explodes, but from the force of that blast, new elements are forged: gold, mercury, copper, silver, titanium, plutonium and so forth. This very ship is a wealth of elements that would not exist had a star not died. The elements that form your cells, the elements that you consume, that you breathe, all of them were forged in a star or are the result of its death.”
“So you’re saying that we’re made of stardust,” she remarked astutely, and as she said it, she couldn’t help but feel a warmth swelling in her. There was something magical and fantastic about that thought. “We’re all made of stardust.”
“Yes.”
Then she felt compelled to take it further. “You and I are made of stardust. Even though you’re a computer program and I’m a human, we still come from the same place. In the end, we’re not that different at all.” It was a connection she had never thought of. She started to laugh, and the fine lines on her face creased. How could such a silly, little idea make her so happy?
“You sound pleased.”
“I am,” she said, grinning.
“Good.”
“Will you stay out here with me for a little while longer?”
“It would be my honor.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Date 5.22.2549
Fifty years after awakening
“Kagome, what are you doing?” Sesshoumaru asked. He looked down at her from the computer screen at the back of a small work room. A variety of tools were strewn about the floor and a long curtain shrouded her and her current project, one that she kept from him with the utmost secrecy.
“You know I can’t tell you,” she replied, her voice raspy with age.
“I do not understand this sudden need to conceal your activities from me. I could at any time run a scan to determine your ‘secret’.”
“But you won’t, because for one, it’s supposed to be a surprise, and two, I’ve already asked you not to look.”
“I am the superior officer here.”
Kagome laughed. “You must be really excited about finding out what it is if you’re resorting to that line.”
“Hn.”
“Don’t worry. I’m just putting the finishing touches on it.”
The blue light of a welding torch flickered behind the curtain, revealing glimpses of her hunched over a mangled looking object on the floor. Then she turned off the fuel and put the torch down. Wearing a welding mask, she stepped out from behind the curtain. A vivacious woman of seventy-three years, she pulled up her mask and smiled.
“Are you ready?”
“Yes,” he said without a moment of hesitation.
Kagome laughed again as she removed her mask. Her beautiful gray hair fell down to frame her face and her matching eyes twinkled. “All right. You’ve waited long enough.” She took the edge of the curtain and with a good tug, she pulled it down.
The curtain fell, revealing a human-sized robot laid out on the floor.
“You have engineered a body for me?” he asked.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” she said, wiping the sweat from her forehead. “It’s a pretty simple, minimalist design. It has four articulating limbs, two legs and two arms, so that you can walk around and use tools. The arms have the best hands I could fashion from the spare parts available. They should work well enough until you create better ones. It runs off of a rechargeable battery and its computer should be able to accommodate your program without too much trouble. I even installed a monitor across its chest and a holographic projector for its head, so that it’s well… you.”
“I do not know what to say. I am both amazed and honored.”
“I think that’ll do,” she said, grinning. “Well, what are you waiting for?”
He looked at her quizzically.
“It’s hooked up to the computer console on the wall and ready to go. You really didn’t scan this room at all, did you?”
“I am a Sesshoumaru of my word.”
The screen on the wall flickered off, and the monitor on the front of the robot turned white. A progress bar appeared and slowly started to fill. Then the bar vanished. The robot’s joints started to twitch as each one was tested, and when the last one moved, the holographic projector created the familiar, silvery image that she had come to know all these years.
Slowly, he sat up and looked around.
“What do you think?” she asked.
Using his hands to steady himself, he rose to a crouch and then stood up. “It is a gift I will never forget.”
Tears started to stream down her cheeks. “I didn’t want you to be helpless again. After I’m gone, I…”
He reached for her and pulled her close. His metal arms wrapped around her like in the cherished pictures she often looked at from her past, the ones she never mentioned. He could feel her shuddering against him, and then her arms embraced him as well.
“You are not going to be gone,” he said soothingly. “You will never be gone.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Date 4.4.2565
Sixty-six years after awakening
The computer screen in Laboratory 3 turned on.
“Kagome?” Sesshoumaru called out.
The lab was lush and verdant, brimming with foliage from dark, forest greens to vibrant yellow-greens. Twisting vines climbed the walls and vigorous stalks of bamboo brushed against the ceiling. Beautiful flowers were everywhere, showing as brilliant splotches of color amid the green.
“Kagome?” he called out again.
There was no reply but the rustle of leaves as recycled air flushed in through the vents.
‘Where was she?’ he wondered. Usually she and her plants were inseparable. This was her beloved greenhouse, her purpose in life. He started a scan. Perhaps she had fallen asleep. She had needed more rest recently, not something unheard of for a woman of her age. He frowned. The scan was negative. She wasn’t in the laboratory. Then he began a ship-wide scan. She could be inputting data into the computer or reading old logs in the cargo bay. His frown deepened. The results came back. She was in the stasis room. What was she doing in there?
The screen turned off.
The screen in the stasis room switched on.
“Kagome?” Sesshoumaru said, then for the second time in his existence, dread and fear gripped him. He found her lying on the floor and barely breathing. “Kagome!” he shouted.
She murmured weakly.
The screen switched off again and the robot in the work room powered up. In his body of salvaged parts, Sesshoumaru stood up and flew out of the room. The corridor’s metal walkway clanged as he raced down it toward the stasis room. He burst into the room and crouched down beside her. She was limp and pale, and he scooped her up into his arms. Since when had she gotten so small and weak? What happened to the strong, exuberant woman who made him feel like he was more than memory and code? That he was something as tangible as she was.
“Kagome,” he said softly. “Kagome, wake up.”
“Sesshoumaru?” she replied breathlessly. “You’re here. I’m so glad you’re here.”
“We must take you to the infirmary. Perhaps there are medicines and nutrients there that can restore you.” Cradling her, he started to stand up.
“No” she whispered and pulled on his arm. “It’s my time.” She could see the fear etched into his holographic face. “It’s been coming for a long time. And I’m ready.”
He was at a loss.
Managing to smile, she reached up to his face. “It’s all right. Everything’s going to be all right.” Her fingers glided along the contours of his cheek. Even though he was nothing but light, she imagined that he was warm and soft, like she always knew he was.
“I will miss you,” he said.
“I know you will.”
“And I… I love you.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “I know, because… I love you too.”
Sesshoumaru leaned down and set a kiss on her lips, imagining them to be as warm and soft like he always knew they were. Then with a long sigh, she breathed her last.
And she was gone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Date 12.19.2602
One-hundred and thirteen years after awakening
Inuyasha felt himself rise out of the endless depths of nothingness. It was a familiar sensation, one that he’d experienced many times in his service exploring deep space. There was something ethereal about it, like a vivid sunset that never seemed to fade. But like all things, the moment passed. The real world invaded. He heard a gurgling and felt his body sinking.
“Captain?” a voice echoed.
His half-lidded eyes opened. There was a blurry silhouette watching him.
“Captain?”
Rubbing his eyes, his sight started to clear and he recognized the figure. He pulled off the wretched mask, gagging on the tubes as he took them out. That part never got any easier.
“Hello, Miroku,” he finally said
“How are you feeling, sir?” the young man asked. His wet, dark hair clung to his face and he adjusted his thermal robe.
“Groggy.” The alien/human hybrid ran his claws through his hair, trying to get some of the liquid out. “How are Kagome and Sango? Did they wake up well?”
“Sango is fine, but…”
Inuyasha caught the worry wrinkling the lieutenant’s brow. “What happened to Kagome?”
“She’s not here.”
“What do you mean ‘she’s not here’?”
“We can’t find her. Her pod is empty. It looks like it’s been empty for a long time.”
Inuyasha’s chest tightened. Miroku stepped out of the way and the agile hanyou climbed out of the pod hatch and landed on the floor. He didn’t even notice the cold or the thermal robe that Miroku tried to hand to him. He walked over to the empty pod, and his mouth dropped. The damage to the pod’s control system was horrendous.
“Sentient Short-wave Magisterial Routine!” he called out.
Sesshoumaru’s image appeared on the screen. “Yes, captain?”
“What is the status of Lieutenant Kagome Higurashi, sir?”
“She has died.”
The blow hit him hard, and he stumbled back. She was dead? “When?”
“She passed forty-seven years ago.”
“How?”
“Our ship was struck by a stellar flare in the X1039 system. The damage was severe, and unfortunately her amniotic pod was irreparable. There was no way to put her back into stasis.”
Inuyasha looked away. His face started to turn red. Anger and pain surged through him, and he desperately wanted to break something… anything. How could she be dead just like that? He loved her.
“But she saved us. She saved all of us. It was through her hard work that the majority of the ship was repaired. If she had not, we would not be docking with the space station shortly.”
Sango stepped in through the door. “Captain?”
“What?” he growled bitterly.
“You have to come see this.”
“What is it?”
“It’s… Kagome.”
Inuyasha looked at her, confused.
“Come look. It’s her.”
With Miroku following behind, Inuyasha stepped out into the corridor, and for the first time that he could remember, he gasped in amazement. Long webs of vines curled and crawled along the walls. Rows of healthy, vigorous plants were embedded along the walkway, their flowers adding spots of red, pink and gold along the normally gray corridor. The ship was a rich, beautiful rainforest filled with life.
“There’s more,” Sango said before either man could ask the questions that hung on their lips. She walked down the corridor and stopped at an empty spot on the wall. The others joined her. On the wall etched into the metal was a mural of Kagome smiling as she clipped her plants.
Inuyasha shook his head in disbelief.
“There are dozens of them,” she said. “Ones with her repairing the ship, others with her gazing out into space. They’re everywhere. Just like the plants. This ship is one giant arboretum dedicated to her.”
“How? Who did this?” he asked.
Sango shrugged.
“Sentient Short-wave Magisterial Routine?” he called out.
The intercom clicked on. “Yes, captain?”
“What is all of this?”
There was a long pause.
“It is her life,” Sesshoumaru replied.
“Why?”
“So that even in death, her essence lives on. Whether it is through her research that will save billions or through her soul which has saved… one.”
A/N: Whoo! First Sci-fi fic and a ‘bottle’ fic on top of that. I’ve never had to pace a story through mainly dialogue before, so I hope you were able to bear with it. And of course, one of my abrupt endings which I’m sure you all love.
Anyhoo, this is my second entry for Tangy’s Tournament on the forum. My partner is Lira. As per the rules, please read her story as well and between the two, vote for the one you think deserves to win. All votes must be sent to Tangerine Dream via PM.
http://www.dokuga.com/profile/userprofile/lyrainthedark
http://www.dokuga.com/profile/userprofile/TangerineDream