Xavier Xanthum's New YearXavier Xanthum, Space Explorer, gazed morosely at the fuel-level indicator of the starship Wanderlust. A voice interrupted his gloomy musings.
"Captain, we're going to have to put in at Haven for fuel," Larry announced.
"I can see that." Xavier let his irritation show. Larry wouldn't take offense. It was hard to offend even a self-willed AI. "I told you, I hate going there," Xavier continued. "Why didn't you remind me about fuel back in the D-36 System where we had some choices?"
"I did. But then there was that sweet little planet..."
Xavier sighed. It had been a lovely planet, with gleaming seas and perfect land-masses. It would have been worth just about anything to claim that one. Too bad about the Krrg who held it.
He'd been in such a hurry to get away from the Krrg--they didn't take kindly to interlopers--that he'd forgotten all about the fuel. Bad, but understandable. "Hey, wait a minute--yeah, I forgot, but you could have reminded me once we were away from those brutes."
That silenced Xavier. After a long minute, he carefully pointed out, "You're an AI. You don't forget."
Another silence followed, despite the effectively instantaneous nature of Larry's thought processors.
"That is correct."
The two friends, man and AI, considered this. Larry appeared in his usual guise, as a pair of eyeballs, sans body. On this occasion, the eyes were green. An odd, pea-soup kind of green. "I am dismayed to learn this," Larry said, his computer voice drained of expression by his shock.
After a minute, Xavier decided he'd rather not think about it.
"Larry, set course for Haven. We need to refuel." The subject was closed.
Haven was wide open. Xavier studied his viewer with distaste. Like most free-lance space explorers, Xavier Xanthum was an introvert, quite content with the company of Larry and their cat, Comet. It was a necessary condition of the employment; an extrovert would go mad or die, forced to spend month and even years alone between planets.
For Xavier, an entire planet engaged in a massive drunken party was a blast for about fifteen minutes. By now, he knew better than to even start. But there it was, clear on every channel he could open to Haven. Always a party planet at the best of times (the name referred to the planet being a haven from a repressive regime that didn't approve of festivities), every spaceport dirtside appeared to be enjoying some kind of wild celebration.
"What are they partying about, Larry?" It would be good to know. A party this huge might indicate the overthrow of a regime or survival of a plague.
"It appears to be an annual celebration of the recalibration of their local calendar."
Xavier thought about that. "Translate, please."
"Something they call 'New Year's Eve,'" Larry elucidated.
Xavier groaned. He now had a choice. He could try to get his fuel and leave without other contact, giving him nothing to distract him from Larry's surprising revelation. Or he could join in the party and drown the memory of Larry's forgetting in Carpintinarian rum, in hopes that by the time he sobered up he would have no recollection of Larry's descent into humanity.
About to drain his first tankard of rum, Xavier hesitated.
Always before, when he'd chosen to get sloshed dirtside, Larry had kept track--of him, of the ship of their Credits, and anything else that needed remembering.
What if Larry forgot?
Xavier slowly lowered the tankard, and slid off the barstool.
This was one New Year he'd skip celebrating.
Copyright Rebecca M. Douglass, 2016