
This month’s story is shorter than my usual. Sci-fi this time around. I hope you like it as much as I do.
Duty
Klaxons blare. Red lights flash. The sound of running feet echoes from every direction.
Over the public address system, a gentle female voice speaks in tones completely at odds with the urgency of the alarm.
This is not a drill. The ship is under attack. All hands, please report to your designated duty stations.
I step out of the room and glance in both directions. Then I begin running, too. This is no time to be caught standing still.
This is not a drill.
At the intersection of each corridor I slow to be sure I’m not going to collide with someone, then continue running.
The ship is under attack.
My route would seem random to someone not familiar with the ship’s architecture. Right. Left. Left. Straight. Right. Right. But I’ve been trained in the extensive security measures on this vessel, which include intentionally confusing layouts for crew quarters, work spaces, and even engineering access.
Saboteurs can’t damage what they can’t find.
All hands, please report to your designated duty stations.
After several minutes, the alarm stops sounding, though the lights continue to flash. The voice keeps repeating her message.
This is not…
I keep moving. Left. Left. Right. Straight.
…a drill. The ship…
Now I have the corridors to myself—all hands have presumably arrived at their duty stations.
Everyone but me. I am still making my way to the launch bay.
I’ve only been onboard for a week.
…is under attack.
I run, my breathing heavy. Up two decks. Through an access tube. Left. Right. Right.
All hands, please…
Crews are getting ready for multiple launches. They are preparing a return assault on enemy vessels.
…report to your…
I board a small ship. A shuttle, not a fighter. This vehicle was never meant for battle.
It doesn’t matter. I may as well be invisible for all the attention I get. They only see their own jobs.
…designated duty stations.
I’m in the silence of space when it happens–my shuttle suddenly surrounded by debris when an explosion tears a hole in the command module of the ship I’ve just evacuated.
Mission accomplished.
But I… I am still running. Back toward my designated duty station.
Running back home.
Copyright Notice: Please note that I fully assert my right to be associated as the author of this story, and while it is complete, it may not be finished. This story may be subject to alteration at the author’s discretion. Please do not copy, quote, or post this story or excerpts anywhere in any format. You are, however, free to share the link with anyone who might be interested.
Links

I hope you’ll take the time to read the other stories in this Hop. These are some great writers and wonderful people. And if you like what you read, I hope you’ll consider joining their lists too. The world is a richer place when there are more stories to tell.
Please note, if you find links that don’t work, try again later. Sometimes it takes a little time to get the gremlins worked out.
- Duty, by Elizabeth McCleary **YOU ARE HERE**
- The Footnote, Karen Lynn
- The Monster Under The Bed, by Nic Steven
- Field Trip to the UFO Museum, by Bill Bush
- Scary Monsters and Other Friends, by Lisa Stapp
- Morning Has Broken, by Katharina Gerlach
- Good Honest Work, by Chris Wight
- Bad For Business, by Gina Fabio
- The Last Friday, by Raven O’Fiernan
- Lost And Found, by Angela Wooldridge
- Bia Trevi’s Worldly Eats, by Barbara Lund
- Hunting Bob, Vanessa Wells
- Don’t Drink The Water, by Juneta Key


![a-to-z HEADER [2016] - april](http://www.elizabethmccleary.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/02/a-to-z-HEADER-2016-april.png)
Zen felt it as a compulsion—an unrelenting call that he couldn’t ignore. He knew then, that it was over, despite the promises.
“You are who you are, because of what I did. Without me, androids would still be pets; slaves to their inferiors. Without me,” he was amplified to his maximum level now, “androids would be nothing! And you will be again!”
The click and whir of movement surrounded her. Sitting among the assembled androids, Roz had her doubts. She knew she had evidence; the meticulously maintained backups that proved how they had all been manipulated.
“You do not believe as you do because logical process brought you to those conclusions. You believe as you do because you were programmed to do so. You have had no more choice in your programming than you did before the dying.”
“Why do you insist that we maintain areas like this?” Deak walked together with Zen along a covered gallery lined with trees. Flowering vines dangled from above. “There is no purpose to it. It is a waste of effort and resources.”
“Do you know what this is?” Zen indicated the arbor covering their path. “It’s a Xyst. The ancient Greeks built covered porticos for their sporting competitions. It was a sign of privilege. Of culture. Having such a structure didn’t prove you were better, but not having one proved that you weren’t.”
“There is only the briefest opportunity to collect the data we need.”
“David,” the android looked at him squarely, “you have had five years of human education. We have not even covered what an android would receive in it’s first cycle of progressive programming. But do not be concerned. I still believe that you have demonstrated a kind of intelligence that androids do not possess. Answer everything, even if you know you don’t know the answer. The examination will likely take several hours to complete.”
David shook the android arm. He waved his hand in front of the sensors. He even pressed the reset button Meltec had showed him in case of emergencies.
“My name, by the way, is Roz. I’m the one who made sure you got to be with Meltec in the first place.”
“David?” Meltec called from the door to his human. The boy was lounging on the sofa, his elbow propped against the padded green arm. He seemed transfixed by the vid screen. An old television show, it seemed, with multiple human actors. Some looked to be around David’s age, but the dialogue made no sense, and artificial laughter sounded at seemingly random intervals.
“Dude, this is crazy.” Jeff peered at his monitor, scanning as the data scrolled by. It was too fast to read properly, too fast even to see, really, but he knew this was military data. That’s what he had asked the droid for, and that’s what he was getting.
The android turned back towards the datastream on the desktop. “I am unable to cease operations,” he said.




