Carter’s eyes tracked the arti as it lumbered through the passenger cabin. It swiped an AirStellar ID over a wall-mounted scanner and walked through a door marked “ERG”. If any of the passengers had an issue with it, they didn’t say so.

 

He unhitched his harness, wincing at a sharp pain in his shoulder, and walked to the cockpit. The flight attendant, Adrienne, looked up but didn’t stop him. Twenty-six years with AirStellar had its privileges.

 

Captain Hannover was in his seat, ticking things off on a clipboard. He was the only taxi pilot left who used manual checklists. It was one reason Carter trusted him. Old school. Trust the systems, but double-check their work.

 

“Say, Captain,” Carter said, leaning in.

 

Hannover didn’t turn around.

 

“What is it, Carter? I’m wheels up in three.”

 

Carter took a step forward.

 

“You know you got an arti down in ERG?”

 

Hannover sighed and flipped a page on his checklist.

 

“That’s Gordy. He’s alright.”

 

“I just think—”

 

“Give the kid a break, Carter. He’s an employee same as us.”

Carter sat in the nav chair and leaned back.

 

“It’s not a kid, Don. It’s a bucket of wires and gears and metal plates.”

 

Hannover leveled two hard eyes at Carter. “He’s a citizen with full rights and privileges. You got a problem with it, take it up with the UN.”

 

Carter straightened in his seat and nodded.

 

“I was just thinking maybe I could go down to ERG, give him a hand.”

 

Hannover pulled back his left sleeve and checked his analog watch.

 

“Let him do his job, Carter. We’re wheels up in two. You want to ride deadhead take your seat. Otherwise wait for the next taxi in…” he checked a display to his left. “Six hours.”

 

Carter slouched back to his seat. Six hours was too long. His daughter, Miriam, was graduating in three. The first graduating class at the Martian branch of WCU. They hadn’t talked since she declared her major. Artificial intelligence. She wanted to build arties. Carter still didn’t like her choices, but she was his daughter, and he was hell bound to make things work.

 

Besides, there was no guarantee the next taxi wouldn’t have an arti running ERG. Damn things were taking over. He’d be lucky to make it to retirement without being replaced.

 

He locked his harness just before the wave. The taxi blinked out of phase, then shimmered before settling back into a solid. He rubbed his shoulder, trying to ease out the pain. If his bursitis kept flaring up he’d have to see the company quack. Unless the quack was an arti.

 

Hannover’s voice came smooth over the PA.

 

“Alright, folks, the dark matter jump is complete. We’ll cruise at about seventy-five percent light speed and have you safely on Mars in twenty-two minutes.”

 

Carter bristled. Twenty-two minutes in the care of an arti. He was about to curse when another wave passed. Passengers looked at each other, then to him. Up by the cockpit, Adrienne looked at him with wide eyes.

 

The cockpit door opened, and Hannover motioned for him. Another wave hit. Carter walked forward as soon as the floor looked solid again.

 

“Maybe you better get down there,” Hannover said.

 

Carter grabbed Adrienne’s badge and swiped into the ERG. Inside, Gordy stood staring at panels, fidgeting with dials, and shaking his round, silver head.

 

“The hell is going on in here?” Carter said. “You trying to jump us into another century?”

 

“I am attempting to correct an overrun,” Gordy said without turning from the panels. “I am unable to isolate the source.”

Carter looked at the Einstein-Rosen Generator. A faint blue glow seeped out of the front panel.

 

“You want to isolate the problem, turn your head around.”

 

Gordy turned and his luminescent eyes flashed.

 

“The generator appears to be over-arcing.”

 

Carter shook his head. “It’s leaking, idiot. Did you check the coupler before we launched?”

 

Gordy’s eyes flashed. His head cocked to one side. “Couplers are checked every six cycles.”

 

Carter yanked the lock and pulled the panel open. Inside, the dark matter feed coupler was inching counterclockwise, loosening as he watched. A blue light seeped out around the twisting coupler.

 

“Damnit,” he said. “You need to check the couplers before every flight.”

 

He scanned the room.

 

“Where’s your kit bag?”

 

“Kit bags are not required on flights below FTL.”

 

Carter’s mouth dropped open.

 

“You’re telling me you don’t have any tools?”

 

Gordy’s eyes flashed red. He opened a panel in his chest and removed a pair of forceps.

 

“I have this. But this is only for—”

 

Carter grabbed them and turned back to the generator.

 

“They’re for whatever I say they’re for.”

 

He reached into the generator, straining to grip the coupler with the forceps. The stretch aggravated his shoulder, sending hot pain down to his elbow. His hand seized, refusing to squeeze the forceps around the coupler.

 

He jerked them back and swung them like a hammer. At the last second his shoulder tensed, sending his hand off course. When the forceps hit the coupler it spun the wrong way, loosening even further. It was going to drop. He couldn’t stop it. He whispered a prayer for Miriam and squeezed his eyes shut.

 

A metal arm caught his waist and tossed him backwards. From the floor he saw Gordy grab the end of each feed, turning himself into a new coupler as the original fell off. Gordy glowed blue, and his eyes shattered.

* * *

 

They landed safely on Tharsis Plateau save for the burnt husk of a sacrificial arti. Miriam met him at the terminal. He attempted an awkward hug. “Good flight?” she said.

 

“We lost a crewman.”

 

Miriam put a hand on his elbow. “I’m sorry. Were you close?”

 

“Nah,” Carter said. “Just met him. Seemed like a good kid, though.”

 

He put an arm around her shoulder as they boarded a tram packed with arties headed for work.