Page 22 of Tarek

The total transit time would be fifteen days. That included one sleep cycle at the second station and three at the third. Bob had apparently coordinated the connections to minimize unnecessary waiting, which I appreciated, even if the route itself seemed designed to give me a thorough introduction to every docking port between here and New Haven.

The second ship, he continued, would have a Mylos medic aboard. The medic would conduct the required mate-matching test protocol, and I would receive my results as soon as the testing was complete.

I sat up a little straighter. The mate test, I'd known it was part of the process. New Haven offered humans the opportunity to settle there with land and building credits, and the Mylos matching system helped determine whether the settler had a Dragonii mate. It made sense for the colony to handle the test early, particularly for someone being recruited for an important position. I'd simply been so focused on the job that I hadn't spent much time thinking about the other part of the arrangement.

I returned to Bob's message.

Credits to cover the cost of my stay, meals, and entertainment during the station layovers had already been added to my account. I checked my balance, expecting enough to cover a few basic necessities and perhaps a decent meal. Instead, I found a sum that made me sit very still for several seconds. They had been generous. Very generous. There was enough to cover comfortable accommodation, good food, and more than a few evenings of entertainment without requiring me to dip into my savings. Bob had even provided a breakdown of the expected expenses, along with a cheerful assurance that I was under no obligation to spend the entire allowance.

I couldn't help grinning.

“Well, Bob,” I murmured, “you certainly know how to make a good first impression.”

The rest of the message included instructions for my transfer, confirmation of my anticipated arrival, and a reminder that the colony would have everything ready for me when I landed. Bob ended by telling me that New Haven was looking forward to having me aboard.

It was an odd thing, being welcomed by a sentient AI I'd never met, especially as the merchant vessels and stations I usually frequented tended to have only rudimentary AI that focused primarily on things like hull integrity and keeping the air breathable. They didn’t chat and make travel arrangements. Still, there was something reassuring about the way the arrangements had been made. No uncertainty, no endless waiting for someone to process paperwork, and no vague promise that somebody would get back to me eventually. The colony had a job for me, and it seemed determined to get me there. That was good enough for me.

The first leg of the journey passed without incident. The Wayfarer's Fortune reached its next station stop on schedule, and the ship arranged to collect me was waiting when we docked. The captain gave me a brief farewell that managed to sound both sincere and relieved, and I transferred my belongings to the waiting vessel.

From there, the journey unfolded much as Bob had promised. I changed ships, spent my allotted sleep cycles at the designated stations, and eventually boarded the second ship, the one carrying the Mylos medic who would conduct my mate test. The vessel belonged to the Mylos Merchant Fleet, and its AI, Xeranos, handled the ship's operations. The medic greeted me in sickbay, checked my identification, and explained the testing process before getting started.

“We'll begin with the psychological profile,” he said, indicating a chair beside the medical console. “There are no right or wrong answers. The purpose is to establish compatibility indicators, temperament, preferences, and the sort of relationship dynamics most likely to work for you. Answer honestly, even if a response might be less than flattering.”

“I'll do my best not to impress the computer with my many virtues.”

The medic smiled. “That would be a refreshing change. Some candidates seem to believe the system awards extra points for pretending to be perfect. Xeranos can detect that too, and it tells him something about the user’s personality as well, though, so in the end, they still get a perfect match if one is made, so there’s that.”

I settled into the chair. “Then I should be fine.” I knew I would be. I didn’t go into my line of work by stressing out over answering harmless questions or panicking under pressure, that was for certain. I tapped the screen on the provided data pad, which was a much nicer model than my personal one, and set my biometrics to it when prompted. There was a flashing icon indicating the test, so I tapped that, and the questions began. And there were a great many of them.

Some made sense. How did I handle disagreements? Did I prefer to talk through a problem immediately or take time to think before discussing it? How important was personal space in a relationship? What did I consider an acceptable division of household responsibilities? How did I respond under pressure, and what did I expect from a partner when life became difficult? Those seemed reasonable enough. I could see how the answers might help identify someone whose temperament and expectations complemented my own.

Then the questions got a little stranger to me, unused to such random, personal questions. What was my favorite color? My favorite food? Had I ever wanted a pet, and if so, what kind? Did I prefer a quiet evening at home or a lively social gathering? Was I an early riser or a night owl? Did I enjoy surprises? How did I feel about sharing a bed, and did I prefer to sleep on the left or right side?

I stared at that last question for a moment before selecting an answer. I wasn't sure how much it mattered which side of a bed I slept on, but apparently Xeranos thought it was worth asking, as he was the one who’d designed the famous test. There were questions about affection, trust, communication, boundaries, and what I wanted from a long-term relationship, mixed in with questions that seemed to have been designed by someone who wanted to know absolutely everything about me. Those made more sense to me. I answered them all as honestly as I could, even when I couldn't imagine why anyone needed to know my favorite food to determine whether I might be compatible with another person.

By the time the questionnaire ended, I had begun to suspect that the Mylos and their AI had devised a way to make a person examine every corner of his personality while simultaneously learning more about his domestic preferences than he'd ever thought necessary.

The medic reviewed the completed questionnaire, handed me back the data pad, then prepared a cheek swab for the biological portion of the test. It was quick and painless, and he transferred the sample to the analysis unit. “The data pad is now yours to keep. Xeranos has been scoring your psychological profile as you've answered each question,” he explained while the system processed the sample. “That gives us a detailed compatibility assessment, but it isn't enough by itself to confirm a mate. The biological analysis has to be completed as well, and the system combines both sets of results before making its final determination.”

“So the answers are already scored, but I still have to wait for the actual result?”

“Exactly. Xeranos has been assessing your responses throughout the questionnaire. The DNA sequence is analyzed separately, and once both are ready, the system compares the combined results against the available compatibility data.”

I leaned back in the chair. “All that to find out whether I like the same side of the bed as someone else?”

The medic chuckled. “The side of the bed is a minor detail. The point is to build a fuller picture of the person behind the answers. Sometimes an apparently trivial preference helps distinguish between otherwise similar profiles. Sometimes it makes no measurable difference at all. The system considers the whole picture, not any single answer.”

“Fair enough.”

He returned to his console, and I watched the results scroll across the display. Xeranos had already recorded my psychological assessment, but the final compatibility result remained pending while the biological analysis ran. The DNA sequence took only moments to analyze once the sample was ready, and then ran the combined result against the registered human applicants.

I was still studying the display, wondering how much weight the system gave to my favorite food, when a clear bell chimed through sickbay. The medic froze.

I looked at him. “What was that?”

He stared at the console, then leaned closer to read the result. His expression shifted from professional concentration to astonishment so quickly that I sat forward.

“That's unexpected,” he said.