With so many combinations and permutations in nature, how can we put a finger on beauty? For ‘someone’, is 'beauty' the shape of the face, the colour of the skin or the form of the hair? Their smell or that certain look in that certain light? He had pictured her beauty in many ways and each image the more beautiful than the last and so, as he stood before the hatch ready to meet her, his biggest worry was that she would find him ugly.
Max Jones braced himself against the bulkhead hatch, his right hand hovered over the release lever. It had taken twelve years to travel to the Orr Refinery, one of the most remote outposts ever established by the human race and, now he was here, ready willing and able to collect his payload -- nothing was as expected -- nothing as it should be -- meeting the girl of his dreams for the very first time -- he was freaking out.
Normal procedure was for the ship to dock with the refinery externally, but Emma had sent him to this 'improvised' docking bay where Companionship was now berthed along with twenty-two other Courier Class freighters. Outside of the ship was dark. Only the external spotlights of his ship providing light. Dark and quiet and still -- motion sensors having indicated no movement since the ship had set down.
Malfunctioning docks he could understand, but he was the only courier that should be here and with a complement of over three-hundred people he would at least expect a few bodies about and, where was Emma? Who had promised to greet him off the ship before his com ‘died’ (he had been unable to raise a noise from his host since he docked).
“Here goes nothing,” he straightened up, took a deep breath and threw the lever. The hatch drew out like an iris opening and he could feel a hiss of warm air escape the ship from behind. He stepped into the cold chamber where there was an earthy chemical smell like the ground warning of rain, but the only humidity was the steam of his breath as it hit the frigid air. The glare of his ship’s spotlights bearing down on him made it almost impossible to see, so he issued one last command to his ship “Com: retract forward spotlights. Extend topside spotlights maximum intensity.”
That should do it, he thought turning his ship into a giant light bulb. He looked around and saw the chamber with his own eyes for the first time. Burn marks scorched the far walls, and it looked like there had been a great explosion on the platform before him. Peering down the chamber, he could see the other courier ships lined up on parade. He recognised The Opeth, Delivery and Sun Dancer in line directly before his ship, and he wondered where their Captains were (he knew them well having trained with Carnie, Mike and Ashton before the mission). He was sure that if Ashton were here she'd be first in line to greet him.
The overwhelming need to get back in his ship pulled at him, and he thought of launching and blasting his way out of the chamber. An idea short lived as he turned to the docking bay doors from where the ship had entered, and saw a crumpled wreck laying spewed below the door, twisted metal folded in on itself, hardly recognisable as a courier craft.
He stepped out onto the gangway, as a non-candescent rainbow flicka floated slowly by his head towards the platform where … a woman stood, statue-like ... waiting. He had to blink and shake his head -- He was sure there was no one there a moment ago.
“Emma?” he said (far louder than he had anticipated) and the name echoed back. The figure remained motionless, and he decided then it was not human but an actual statue. Again, louder this time “Emma!”. Multiple echoes.
A voice replied (in his head), “Max. Do not be alarmed. It is me. I am going to move closer.”
Dumbfounded, he didn’t know what to say or do and so just watched as the statue animated and began to walk (more like float) down the gangway. Her dress flowed about in a fresh non-existent breeze.
She is so graceful, he thought to himself. Were her feet even touching the ground? But then awe gave way to an intense feeling of disappointment, this was going to be the first day of the rest of his life with Emma. Turns out Emma is a robot. Then, fear, not trepidation, but real fear began to rise inside him as the size and bearing of ‘Emma’ became apparent.
She was at least nine feet tall and her physique physically fierce, like a warrior but beautiful: A beauty unlike anything Max had ever imagined. It was as if she, skin, hair, clothes and all, were cast in a bronze that shimmered with the same orange gold sheen of the firewall that marked the edge of the heavy metal gas cloud. The butterflies in his stomach shit themselves, and he felt ill.
Mere feet away, the Emma figure extended a hand in greeting for Max to take, he brought forward a trembling arm and took her hand. It felt warm and soft and gave him a strange tingling sensation where it touched.
“Max, do I disappoint you?” again, the voice, inside his head.
Can you read my mind? ... No, you don't disappoint me, he lied in thought, but then again, if you can read my mind then what is the point of lying. Yes, I'm disappointed. Finally he realised, if she can read my mind then why did she need to ask? So instead, he said weakly out loud, “What happened here?”
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