Nebula's Music. Aubrie Dionne

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      Venus offered no response. The air fizzled between them, and Nebula could almost feel the static electricity. How two humans could change the vibrations in a room, she did not know, but whenever the captain and Venus were together, the room buzzed, like it was filled with cosmic photons.

      The captain continued in a more sensitive tone. “I understand your relatives were taken by the Gryphonites, but in no way does that justify revenge.”

      “You think this is about me?” Venus’s words were so cold they stung Nebula’s ears. Then Nebula heard something crash to the floor. She estimated by the sound of the weight hitting the deck and the glass breaking, it was the captain’s ship in a bottle, with a probability of two point three eight percent to one.

      “This is bigger than both of us.” Venus sniffed. “Go ahead, Carl. Turn the rebels in and see how your conscience reacts to that.”

      The door to the captain’s chamber slid open and Venus burst out. She passed Nebula without so much as a greeting and took the main elevator to the decks below. Although Venus was kindhearted, Nebula knew the captain was right. Babysitting the rebels was like holding a ticking time bomb. It was far too dangerous to fly them to the treaty negotiations or keep them on board.

      Although Nebula thought the captain made the right decision, she prepared herself for the worst. She was acutely aware of how he felt about Venus and calculated the odds were in Venus’s favor he would change his mind before the ship reached Titus Three.

      The captain emerged from his chamber and walked toward her as her fingers blurred over the keyboard, typing calculations at the speed of light. “How’s the data going, Nebula?” Although he tried to hide it, his voice sounded tired. The skin under his eyes sagged and he slumped forward as if resigned to be a heartless commander.

      “Very well, sir. I have thirty-five possible trajectories for the rebel ship originating from five different star systems, and seventy-eight possible origination points for the Gryphonite Warbird.”

      “That’s good.” But Nebula sensed the captain wasn’t listening at all. “Why don’t you take the rest of the hour off, okay?”

      Nebula crinkled her eyes in a quizzical expression. “Sir?”

      He rubbed his head. “I’m giving the entire flight crew a break for the next hour. I need some time to be alone, to think.”

      She almost told him what she thought right then and there. But whether or not she held the probabilities in her hand, she was in no position for decisions such as that. Besides, she shouldn’t have been listening in the first place.

      “Very well, sir.”

      “Thanks, Nebula.”

      She rose with the grace of a Russian ballerina and walked to the elevator, pressing the button for Deck Eighteen, where the prisoners were kept.

      “Don’t get into too much trouble now, you hear?”

      Nebula whizzed around. Had he noticed which deck she requested? Was he aware of her scheme? She scanned his face, but only saw amusement. Captain Ritter was just being himself. She’d logged thousands of his illogical quirks during the five years aboard the Flightship Freedom, and still she couldn’t understand him any better than her first day.

      Nebula heard the whish of the lift as it came to collect her. There was a chiming beep and the threshold appeared behind her. “I will certainly try not to, sir.”

      * * * *

      The containment cells on Deck Eighteen were protected by a trio of guards. Nebula knew she’d have to construct a ploy to gain access to the prisoners. As the elevator eased and the doors swished open, she approached the main entry point with confidence and authority.

      The guard nearest her spoke first. “Good afternoon, Nebula.”

      Nebula computed the appropriate response pitch level that would sound casual and unthreatening. “Good afternoon, Corporal.”

      “What brings you to this dark place?”

      Nebula’s eyes shifted to the row of cells. “I am writing essays for an Earth journal exploring the motivations behind radical behavior. I thought these rebels would be excellent test subjects for my questions.” She had to overrule several erroneous warning flashes in her eyes in order to get the lie out. When she had a spare moment, she would have to shut off her superior judgment system.

      Doubt registered in the guard’s eyes and Nebula resisted the urge to squirm. She kept her position and looked at him directly.

      “Go ahead and try to talk to them. We all have, and we’ve got nothing back but spit and cursing.”

      “I understand your concerns, Corporal.” Nebula’s voice flowed, mild and smooth. “But my research would be greatly improved with any exposure, whether it is positive or negative.”

      “Very well.” The guard pressed a code into the panel alongside the threshold and the glass doors whizzed open. He followed behind her as she peered in cell after cell, trying to find the one man who drew her in like a planet to a star. “We had to put them in separate cells because we were afraid they’d start to plan a way out. This way, no one knows what the others are thinking.”

      “It is a safe assumption, considering the odds.” Nebula recognized the leader from the viewing chamber and he stood to watch her walk by, his eyes shifty like mercury. The woman with pink hair sweated in the cell beside his, doing pull-ups from the bars above her head.

      Nebula passed several more cells before she came to the man with the deep-set blue eyes. He sat on the floor holding his head in his hands. She resisted the urge to run to him and press her face against the glass. He looked up just then as if he sensed her presence and froze in place, an odd mix of reluctance and pleasure in his gaze. “This cell, Prisoner Twenty-six. This man here will do.”

      “All right.” The guard punched in a longer code than the first and the door to the cell disappeared. He took a step to follow her into the cell, but she waved him away.

      “You know as well as I that I can take on three men his size.”

      The guard backed up. “I’ll be right down the hall if you need me.”

      She stepped into the chamber and nodded for him to bring up the barrier once again. The guard regarded her with a steady gaze and mouthed the words, “Be careful.” She waited until he disappeared before turning around.

      The man stared at her like he knew she’d been coming all along. Their gazes locked, blue on black, and she stood unmoving. She felt uncomfortable as he studied her presence, his eyes watery with tears. Unpredictably, he rose from his position on the floor and walked toward her, closing the distance. Although combat tactics flashed through her circuits, she overrode each one and allowed him to take her into his arms. He held her close, smoothing over her back in gentle strokes, and buried his face into her hair.

      Nebula had never been embraced. The sudden rush of contact flooded all her senses, both peripheral and emotional. She felt like her body was on fire, liquid gold running through her veins. She nestled her face into his shirt, taking in the feel of his body close to hers. She wanted to know if he had the same rush of pleasurable feelings and looked into his eyes for her answer.

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