The keycard is light to the touch, almost like air. It displays the basic information necessary for its purpose, but each word has silver embossing that accentuated its importance.

“VELUS, ELARA

CAPTAIN OF “WAYFARER” SHIP

FEMALE HUMAN: EARTH

COPPER MEMBERSHIP

ROOM 3021

SHIP DOCKING AREA #4-ROM”

“Here we are, Captain.” X-7’s voice is calm while pointing to a slot and receiver connected to the front of the carved wooden door. “The door should open with your keycard.”

Elara smiles, silently appreciating her robot assistants’ continued sense of awareness. She puts the card into the slot, hearing a small beep as the reader inside picks up the card’s specific signature. The door silently unlocks for Elara, who pushes it open and leads the way inside the shared bedroom for her and X-7 over the next five solar days of space travel.

The room looks like it can fit two of the Wayfarer’s cockpits inside it, easily. The walls have a soft aquamarine base with mixtures of deeper blue and indigo; overall, it creates the effect of the waters in a shallow part of the ocean. Two Queen-sized beds rest against the right-side wall, each with an accompanying bedside table. Each table has a holographic data display, currently showing the local time on big, bright numbers.

“Wow.” Elara looks to her right and sees a smaller copy of the front door partially open. She peeks past it and sees a restroom with toilet, shower space, and wide mirror over a stain-free sink and water tap. “This is very nice,” she comments about the room in general.

“As it should be,” X-7 says while pulling the pair’s two suitcases of personal belongings behind her and towards the first of the two beds. “The advertisements for this cruise showed plenty of pictures, remember?”

Elara remembers. This particular ship, the Nebulae MK III, is one of five ships owned by the Centauri Cruise Line based in the Alpha Centauri star system. In comparison with other cruise companies, this one stands slightly above the “average” level in customer satisfaction. Even so, the cost of a trip on one of these ships is worth several months of “odd job” pay.

Elara and X-7, owning their own Starfighter and not bound to a corporation’s will, are able to take “odd jobs” across different sectors of the known galaxy. Many of these are freelance contracts from postings on a frequently updated list broadcast across galactic sectors. The contracts are often a “one-and-done” deal, with a ludicrously large variety of tasks up for grabs. Speed, then, is a big factor to getting the jobs you want.

The Captain and her robotic subordinate know some jobs they will not do, such as security or big-game hunting. Jobs like maintenance and daily labor are ones they consider “last resort”, especially if the contracts last for several months on a single planet or space station. This leaves Elara and X-7 with the preference of doing simple and quick jobs, moving from point to point and meeting with many different faces.

Now, however, Elara and X-7 do not have a job to do. This booking onto a luxury starship is a “splurge” of their hard-earned credits. It all came about from a surplus donation of credits from their last job of overseeing asteroid mining near the edge of a lifeless star system; the octopus-like alien had expressed sincere gratitude for help due to the isolated nature of their work.

Elara did not question the surplus then, and she does not question it now. Credits are credits; they do not discriminate.

Now that she is here, Elara feels unsure about the situation. For her, this is extravagant. She is not used to extravagance. “Let’s, uh, get unpacked,” she suggests with some hesitancy. “Then let’s… I dunno, eat something?”

X-7 does not appear discomforted by her Captain’s lack of confidence; the robot goes to the display by the far bed and taps its command console. “The ship has a food court on the bow’s second level,” she tells Elara while the index finger on one of her hands extends out to reveal a data jack. “I will collect a copy of the map from this display for our use.”

“Great idea.” Elara suspects it is easy to get lost in a ship of this size, so a map is a great asset to have handy. As she and X-7 unpack their personal belongings, Elara silently appreciates X-7’s care to detail. Despite being the Captain of her own Personal-Class starship, organization is not one of Elara’s defining qualities. At least she knows when to dress nice; the training programs at her old Flight School hammered that into her brain enough times.

Thinking about the past leads to Elara remembering old faces, flames, and friendships. This causes her eyes to mist over, tears springing from a sudden surge of emotion. Where are those friends now, years after graduation? How many of them are still alive? Why has she not tried to contact them?

“Captain?” Elara hears X-7 speaking but does not answer her. “Are you alright?”

Elara nearly drops the folded pair of underwear she is holding as her sadness crests over. She leans against her bed, silently crying. X-7 rushes to her side, two of the robot’s four arms curling around her back.

“I’m sorry.” Elara sniffles, trying to regain her composure. “I haven’t been on a luxury trip since leaving Earth.” She pauses to breathe, forcing herself to remember those memories. “It was back before I found you, in fact. A bunch of my classmates in our Masters Class program pooled money together for an ocean cruise to the islands of Hawai’i. It was a lot of sun, sand, and sipping of cold drinks on lounge chairs.”

X-7 softly rubs Elara’s shoulder with one of her four metallic hands. “If you need a few minutes to sit and think, then we can do that.” X-7 pats Elara’s back with one of the hands curled around her body. “We are not on someone else’s time here, Elara.”

The human smiles as the sadness turns into a weary sense of relief. “Maybe I’m just hungry. The booking process did take a while.”

X-7 rises, putting extra pomp and enthusiasm in pointing to the room’s front door. “If you are feeling that way, then we shall go to the food court to help you feel better once we unpack.” She winks at Elara through her visor. “Maybe you’d like an ice cream cone as a treat.”

Elara bashfully smacks X-7’s lingering hands away as she stands up as well. “I’m not a kid anymore,” she bluntly states.

“Of course.” X-7 manages to convey her amusement in those two words. “After you, Captain. Remember to take your keycard.”

Unpacking does not take longer than twenty more minutes to finish up. Once Elara and X-7 are out of the hotel room, Elara lock the door using her keycard. Then X-7 takes the lead, using the copy of the map downloaded into her databanks as a guide. The long, narrow hallways for guest rooms are a soft blue, but the thick carpet beneath their feet has white swirls and gray whorls as additional eye-catching symbols.

Once the pair get out onto one of the larger “Nexus Passages”, the colors change to vibrant, multilayered collages. Elara’s human eyes can only take in so much, some of the shades and images appearing muddy or undefinable. X-7’s robotic sensors can flip between different filters, allowing her to spot things where Elara has trouble. Elara stays close to X-7 out of necessity, but also out of fear; she does not want to get lost here.

A short rumble suddenly passes through the floor; Elara and X-7 feel it as they board an automatic escalator going down to a level one lower than their current space. “Was that the ship?” Elara asks X-7, but the robot holds up a hand to signal her request for silence.

“Attention, all passengers,” a soft, monotone voice begins speaking in a language known by Elara and X-7 as “Basic Tongue”, “Your journey through the stars has now begun. All services on our ship are open to you, according to your chosen membership levels. Above all else, enjoy your stay with us, and thank you for choosing Centauri Cruises.”

The general flow of conversation brightens; some voices begin speaking louder, and a few young aliens give cheers or hoots in excitement. Elara cannot blame them; having to stay in one area of so large a vessel can make almost anyone anxious to move around. Even in the Wayfarer and its enclosed spaces, Elara sometimes felt a craving to walk in a big, open space. Preferably, one with a breathable atmosphere and stable gravity, but that was not always the case.

“So,” Elara says as she takes out her copper-colored “Membership Card”, “Any place that has Copper Membership markings are ones we can go to.” She walks to a holographic projector showing several arrows pointing in different directions. Some of the arrows are marked in copper, some silver, some gold, and a few in the shade of the blue and purple-colored rare mineral known as “Decronium”.

After reading over the display for a few minutes, taking in all the areas and the sub-sections within those areas, Elara turns to X-7 with a mote of concern. “Does this method of color separation sound archaic to you?” she asks her robot companion.

“I find it logical,” X-7 replies with short “blinks” of her visor’s eyes. “The customers who pay for higher services get to have more options available. It helps that the places are divided and separated from each other.”

Elara thinks that just makes the class-based system here more obvious and bad, but she lets the matter drop. She points out a meal space marked for “Copper” Membership guests, located a few floors up from their current location, and the two head over there at a steady walking pace. Along the way, Elara spots a few different types of alien and humanoid species she has encountered during the “odd jobs” in her recent travels.

As a mere human, Elara stays close to X-7 at the sight of the spindly “Veenooks” with their big eyes and long fingers, as well as when she passes a tall “Aquilian” wearing portable water tanks over their gills. A short while later, she sees a woman with red hair reaching down to her waist; looking at the woman again reveals the lack of pupils in their golden eyes. Elara recognizes this oddity as matching a “Suldrossian”, a humanoid alien species not often seen in public spaces.

The Suldrossian catches Elara looking at her and reacts with a slow “wink” of an eyelid. This causes Elara’s vision to blur as she feels something gently nudge her forehead. Elara quickly turns away, nerves on fire from experiencing the Suldrossian’s mental “touch” – a reason why they do not stay in crowds. By the time Elara looks back again, the humanoid telepath is gone.

Elara is thankful that an escalator they take to a higher level does not have many other creatures on it at that moment. X-7 says nothing as she leads the pair to the marked eating area, following a small crowd of six-limbed aliens with horns on their heads. Soon enough, the smells and sounds of cooked foods reaches Elara’s nostrils and lures her into a bustling domed space where different vendors line the walls on either side of the entrance.

A separate waiting area lies just by the entrance, currently occupied with some robots. The words “ROBOT WAITING ZONE” shine in bright letters above this area. The entrance itself also has a few posters or signs by it that state “NO ROBOTS PERMITTED” or “ARTIFICAL BEINGS REQUIRE CLEARANCE TO ENTER”.

“What’s this about?” Elara asks X-7 as they stop by the entrance.

“A cruise regulation,” the robot replies with no anger in her tone. “Robots, and “Artificial Beings” with similar body types or programming, are not permitted in certain areas of the ship unless for emergencies. It’s to avoid damages or computer glitches, or so the guidelines say.”

“That’s discrimination,” Elara grumbles. “You aren’t just a robot to me.”

“Thank you, Captain,” X-7 compliments while grabbing Elara’s hand for a quick squeeze of reassurance. “However, we are guests here. We must follow the rules.”

Elara sighs and acquiesces without any more resistance than a bit more grumbling and a short buzzing sensation in her forehead. She heads inside on her own, looking for something to sate her cravings. After seeing several diverse options, all speaking to the wide range of tastes the galaxy had to offer, she finally settles on a “cheese stick” from a vendor manned by a three-eyed alien with a toothy grin. She is unable to recognize the alien’s species; X-7 would probably be able to, if she were there.

The purchased food item is a breaded length of sausage, or something like it, and chopped vegetables attached onto a metal stick and dipped in a thick cheese mixture. The mixture rapidly cools and solidifies as Elara holds it, keeping the other ingredients in place.

Elara keeps the stick up, the front end angled towards her mouth. She takes a careful bite at the top to avoid spilling anything. Surprise washes over her face at the amount of flavor packed into that one bite; spicy and savory, both melding into a unique taste. A good taste, in Elara’s opinion.

Elara walks closer to the “RWZ”, chewing as she goes. She can see X-7 watching from her charging spot, a telltale crinkle in her digital eyes signaling she is feeling happy. “A good purchase, Captain?” the robot asks when Elara gets within a normal speaking range.

“Oh, yeah.” Elara finishes her food quickly while trying to show restraint. No need to act like an animal in the presence of other people. When she swallows down the last bite, she asks X-7, “Okay, what’s next?” in expectation that the robot will have a plan.

“I would like to check on our starship.” X-7’s digital eyes “blink” as Elara raises an eyebrow. “We’ll have to go to the Storage Dock for that,” X-7 clarifies.

“Sure thing.” Elara walks over to a nearby sanitization dispenser – an automated device delivering sanitized liquid to scanned hands or limbs – and cleans her hands with a few seconds of “washing”. That done with, she follows X-7 to another escalator down to the lower levels where the Wayfarer rests.

“All records appear to be in order, Captain. The Wayfarer remains sealed and locked. There should not be any attempts of robbery or vandalism.”

Elara nods, her eyes not looking long at anything inside the Storage Docks. The majority of this area, marked by catwalks going above organized rows and columns of secured starships, is quiet and dark. It appears suitable for ships and machines instead of people or aliens. Elara feels tiny compared to the ships below her, including the Wayfarer she knows as her home amongst the stars.

There are larger and smaller ships here, all put into separate places. The level of organization on display here is incredible and humbling. Elara compares it to the other big thing she’s seen; large space stations, giant machines, and now this very cruise liner. While her body follows X-7 along the catwalks to the nearest exit and stairway to the upper levels, her mind remains on thoughts of futility and meaninglessness.

“Maybe we shouldn’t be here,” Elara mutters aloud as she gets close to the exit door.

X-7 turns around and slows down a bit. “In the docking bay, Captain?”

“I mean on this whole cruise trip.” Elara does not make eye contact with X-7 at this statement. Even so, she can tell X-7 looks perplexed after spending so much time with this specific robot.

“What brings this thought to your mind, Captain?”

“We could have used lightspeed gates to get out of the sector. It would have cost us less money, I think, in the long run.”

“It would also have carried the risk of having our ship run out of fuel in empty space.” X-7 turns her eyes onto the human next to her, raising one hand’s finger to enunciate her next point: “Need I remind you of the Orion Nexus incident?”

Elara shudders. “Right. That’s good enough proof.”

“Besides, Captain,” X-7 continues while leaning towards Elara slightly, “I think this will be a good chance to get more in touch with yourself.”

Elara blinks in confusion, and then her eyes widen in realization. “You mean… with E-Seventy-Seven?”

“Her, too.” X-7 nods, connecting to what Elara is thinking. “Your bond has been deepening. Further practice in a vibrant environment will provide many benefits to your shared mental health.”

“If you say so.” Elara is hesitant about the situation; a “bond” between herself and a personality put inside her head is different that between two close friends. Or even two close lovers, she realizes. She does not love E-77, but she has been getting closer to that side of her. The “odd jobs” have certainly helped with that, as have the long hours in transit between locations with nothing else to do but sit and think.

As if responding to a call, Elara feels a voice whispering in her mind, bypassing her ears and the outside air. This is a good idea, this voice states. We should do this soon.

Elara lets the voice speak as she passes by a glowing sign displaying different locations and arrows showing the general way to get to them. She stops walking as one particular location catches her attention.

“Hey, wait.” Elara reads the words and arrow for this particular place again, while X-7 walks back to her side. “What is the “Hyperspace Observation Deck”?” Elara then asks the robot.

“I was hoping you would ask about that, Captain!” X-7 gleefully, but quietly, exclaims. “This “Deck” appears to be a less-often advertised place on the ship’s map. According to the brochure guide, we can go there and see what the universe looks like at our cruising speed!”

Elara gives X-7 and incredulous look. “We can… look at hyperspace?”

“In layman’s terms, yes.” There is no trace of mischief or deception in X-7’s voice; she is just stating what she has read.

Elara smiles in surprised joy. “Sure. That sounds like fun!”

With the matter settled, they begin following the arrow’s route to their desired place. As they enter a larger hub area, someone moves away from a shadowed wall by the exit point to the same area. A pair of eyes glance up at Elara and X-7 from behind tinted shades. A forked tongue licks along dry lips, tasting the clashing aromas in the air and latching one a particular one.