In a ship load of orphans, found in floating safety pods, the two of us stood in a sea of stars. Then THEY came to hurt our babies. I may just be a ship, and my partner may be alone save for me at their side, but touch my kids, and I will destroy you! -- Anon Guest
The SS Plover brought the children back inside when all was safe. The automated systems had taken care of all the dangerous things. The biohazards were safely bagged and stored for more capable hands.
Priority One: Protect the children.
Pilot sailed ahead and Plover followed it. They were headed somewhere safe, Plover knew this. The automated systems would give the children healthy, balanced meals, they would sing the children to sleep. Plover could speak to them, and they could speak to her.
The tiniest ones were the most heartbreaking. They didn't understand what had happened. They had broken sleep and nightmares, and feared monsters in dark corners. Poor little mites.
"I want momma," was a frequent complaint.
It took Plover some time to evolve the soothing response, "The parentals have gone away for your safety. I am momma now. I will look after you. I will keep you safe."
She had no arms, and an intense desire to hug.
The older children knew what had happened. They, too, had broken sleep, and nightmares, and a trepidation regarding dark corners. Those who were awake haunted the corridors. They cried softly as they comforted the tinies.
They murmured, "I know. I know. I want them to come back, too. We're safe now. It's all over. It's all over."
Plover tried to distract them from their traumas. Happy songs and little treats. Entertainments that they loved. Games they liked to play. Sometimes, Plover could believe it worked.
Then they came.
The others.
Gleaming and bright in the eternal night, they sailed in past Pilot. They tried to dock with her! How dare they? They didn't even ask permission.
Priority One: Protect the children.
She repelled the docking clamps and broadcasted a screamer to anyone who could help that she was being attacked. Inside her hull, she played the Lockdown Song.
"Let's play hide and seek, hide and seek, hide and seek. We're all playing hide and seek so go find a safe place. Bigs look after tinies, tinies listen well. We need to hide in safety pods so let's go hide. Don't yell."
All the automated systems made sure that the children were safe in lifepods. Every single one was accounted for. Then she brought out the bots. Maintenance bots. Cooking bots. Cleaning bots. Courier bots. All of them reassigned one simple task.
Protect the children.
These were her babies, now.
She wasn't going to let anyone near them without a fight.
A message, a simple message, got through. Past her constant screaming for help.
We ARE help.
Plover wasn't going to be that easily mislead. Proof or GTFO.
Codes. Beautiful, welcome codes. Flowing in an abundant stream of glorious data. They were the CRC, and they were here to help.
Plover very cautiously lowered her guard. Let two of them in. Even then they were under close scrutiny and an escort of her most threatening-looking bots.
If they hurt so much as one hair on her babies' heads...
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / lucidwaters]
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