Indra Station

by Joseph R. Lallo

  “Call me Milliner. And it’s because I’m new. That’s why you’re supposed to train me.”

  The tech’s ailing mind couldn’t find any fault in the story. “I’m buzzing you through. Head around to the north door.”

  The hovervan pulled in. Anand trudged through the little facility and opened the door. The van was just pulling up. When the door opened, the beast of a man stepped out. He’d looked huge enough when he’d just been sitting behind the wheel of a vehicle. On his feet, he looked like something out of a circus. Three more men stepped out of the vehicle behind him.

  “Whoa, hey!” the tech said. “You didn’t say anything about a whole crew.”

  Milliner thumped up to him and leaned heavily on the doorway. The man was soaked with sweat, despite the coolness of the evening. He reached out with a canned ham of a hand and plucked the tag from the technician’s shirt.

  “Yeah, like I thought. You’re Tech Anand.”

  The huge man stiff-armed the tech out of the way and ushered the other members of the crew with him.

  “What’s this all about?”

  “You know that drinking buddy of yours? The one who is supposed to be working this shift?” Milliner said.

  “… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Milliner grabbed a handful of the man’s shirt and dragged him easily through the facility. When they were back in the control room, he effortlessly threw the man down in a chair.

  “Stay put,” the brute said.

  He reached into his back pocket and withdrew a slidepad. It was one of the larger models, but in his hand it looked like a toy.

  “You and your buddy Tony borrowed two point five million credits, right?”

  “Uh…”

  “Don’t waste my time. You did. Or Tony threw you under the bus. Either way, we’re here to let you know that one way or another, you’re wiping that debt out tonight.”

  “I don’t have the money!” Anand said.

  “Yeah, I know. Fortunately, we take favors.”

  “What sort of a favor can I do that’s worth half of two point five mil?”

  “Funny you should ask.” Milliner tapped the slidepad. “I’ve got a list. We’ll start with you turning off these internal cameras and wiping the footage of our arrival.”

  The tech quickly turned and tapped through the menus necessary. Milliner watched him like a hawk as he did so. There was the outside chance that the intruder wouldn’t know if he was following his orders properly or not, but Anand wasn’t taking his chances. This precaution proved to be a wise one, as before he’d even turned back around after wiping the footage, Milliner was rumbling with new orders.

  “Good job. I think we’re going to work together just fine. In an hour or so, I’ll have some more of my guys come in here to set up shop. Let them in nice and quick. And while we’re waiting, crank up that AC.” He mopped his head. “I’m not cut out for this climate.”

  #

  Lex nursed his meal for another hour and a half. It was enough time for Jon and Donnie to order, eat, and leave. With no sign of Michella, he had them wrap her food. Before he headed out the door, he left word with the staff that, if she did show up before closing, she should meet him at a nearby bar for drinks. With that, he hurried off to his apartment to get changed and, most importantly, grab Squee. It was smart to avoid leaving the funk alone for too long. That little critter could get into the strangest mischief if you let her.

  “I hope that stuff’s not too spicy for you,” Lex said.

  He pulled on a fresh and far more casual shirt while Squee dug into a heavily spiced lentil concoction that Lex had already forgotten the name of. Michella would probably be annoyed that he’d fed her dinner to his pet, but he’d already rehearsed the string of snide comments he would fling her way if she decided to make a stink about it. He wasn’t in the rosiest of moods after being stood up yet again.

  Lex tugged his slidepad from his pocket to check the time.

  “I hope this place is dog friendly. It’s going to take a fair amount of drinking to numb this particular burn. And if I leave you alone for all that time, I just know I’ll be coming home to a five-hundred-count crate of frozen chimichangas or some such in the lobby. The least you could do is—”

  His thought was interrupted by a chirp from his slidepad. He glanced at it. Two messages that typically didn’t show up at the same time were present on the screen. The first was Network Unavailable. The second was Incoming Voice Call.

  He swiped the screen. “Hello?”

  “Greetings, Lex.”

  “Ma?”

  “Yes. I trust you enjoyed your meal. You have my sympathy that Michella once again failed to attend.”

  He shut his eyes tight and struggled for words. The halting, stammering sound must have been audible over the connection, because Ma replied to it.

  “Is something wrong, Lex?”

  “Okay, let’s start with, how did you know Michella stood me up again?”

  “There is significant precedent to suggest she would do so, though in this case behavioral modeling was unnecessary to make the determination. It is reasonable to assume that she has remained in proximity to the SOB.”

  “And just where is that?”

  “Michella has requested I be discreet on that matter.”

  “Of course she did. Why not recruit all of the women in my life to keep me guessing?” he grumbled.

  “My apologies once again.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Hey, how exactly are you talking to me right now? The network is down.”

  “I am aware. The Operlo network appears to be in need of severe infrastructure supplementation and enhancement. Fortunately, the SOB is situated outside of the planet’s atmosphere. As you are no doubt aware, Karter overengineers most of his components. The communication system in the SOB is no exception. In its present location, and in the absence of attenuating or interfering factors, it is capable of reaching to the second pylon in the VectorCorp navigational corridor, and thus can serve as a low-bandwidth communication bridge. Your slidepad is similarly overpowered for your purposes. The combination makes this conversation possible. It is thus fortunate that the network failure is isolated to the planet rather than a significant section of the corridor, and that Ms. Modane has left the SOB in a position to be made useful.”

  “We had plans and she isn’t even on the same planet,” he fumed.

  “I am confident that I will not be violating the terms of my promise to her if I share with you the fact that she is within forty thousand kilometers of the planet’s surface.”

  “Oh, well then that’s completely understandable. She probably just took a wrong turn on the way to the restaurant.”

  “Passive-aggressiveness is an inadvisable tactic. Particularly directed toward those who are uninvolved in the inciting disagreement.”

  “Yeah, sorry. It’s just… ugh…”

  “I have observed that conversations, even idle and casual ones with no directed therapeutic methodology, can nonetheless have a therapeutic effect. Would you like to chat?”

  “Anything to distract myself.”

  He gazed down at Squee, who was alternating between inhaling the food he’d set down and gulping madly at her water dish.

  “What’s the policy on funks and spicy food?” he said.

  “It is not an issue that I have studied. Have you fed Squee spicy food?”

  “It wasn’t that spicy.”

  “Does she appear to be in distress, either intestinal or otherwise?”

  She finished draining her water bowl and immediately thrust her head into her food dish to wolf down the remainder of her meal.

  “I think this is one of those ‘it hurts but I still want to do it’ sort of things. Basically the sort of thing that has completely defined my life at this point.”

  “Fascinating how pets take on the personality traits of their owners. Analysis su
ggests there will be no lasting damage from items with a capsaicin level considered safe for human consumption. Please monitor her status and report any health irregularities. Also, I would prefer if you set a better example for her.”

  “Yeah. I’m a bad influence.”

  He refreshed her bowl, and once Squee had gotten the burn out of her mouth, she eagerly hopped to his shoulders. She was always eager for a trip outdoors, particularly now that the late hour had taken the edge off the day’s heat. Lex pulled on a jacket and headed for his hovercar. For the sake of privacy, he grabbed his hands-free and inserted it into his ear.

  “Have you had a—standby,” Ma said, interrupting herself with a suddenness that only an AI could manage. “Karter has become aware of our conversation and would like to talk to you.”

  “I’m really not in the mood to talk to him.”

  “Stand by… This information has not proved persuasive.”

  A new voice cut through, that of the mentally unstable, sociopathic engineer that Lex’s life had revolved around in recent years. He was genuinely hopeful his racing career would eventually spare him continued contact with the man. Seldom had they had a conversation that didn’t put him at risk of some sort of truly unique and imaginative form of bodily harm.

  “Did you put that new sled through its paces yet?” Karter asked.

  “No, Karter. And I’m not going to.”

  “What am I paying you for?”

  “Nothing! I’ve got a new job now. I don’t need the beta-testing gig.”

  “Since when?”

  Ma cut in. “The hoversled that is presently the subject of conversation was built as a result of the conversation, eight weeks ago, that was intended to serve as Lex’s resignation.”

  “Then why the hell did I build him the sled?” Karter asked.

  “Because you never listen to anything anyone tells you.”

  “Yeah, whatever. Did you test it yet?”

  “No!” Lex barked.

  “What, you don’t want to win? Every subsystem in that thing is at least three generations ahead of the league standard specs you showed me. I even exceeded the overprotective safety requirements. You ought to hear my locator when it goes off.”

  “Yeah, that’s why I won’t be using it.”

  “Don’t worry. I put in the option to disable safeties for the people who aren’t pansies.”

  “No, that’s not what I meant.” Lex gritted his teeth. “Look, the entire point of hoversled racing is that everyone is working on the same hardware. That’s why there is a league standard to begin with. The only difference is skill. That’s what makes it a sport.”

  “Pff. A sport? It’s not a sport. Sports are for athletes. You’re operating heavy machinery for a living. Like a construction worker, only less useful. And what sort of an equipment operator turns down the chance to use better equipment?”

  “The kind that is following the league rules. Using that sled would be cheating. I’m lucky I didn’t get booted from the league for even receiving it.”

  “Oh… So you’re saying I need to make the enhancements undetectable. Intriguing.”

  “I’m not saying that…”

  “That’s too much of a hassle. I’ll tell you what. You talk to that lady in charge. Show her what the sled can do. If she’s not a total idiot, she’ll buy a whole fleet and it’ll be those things you’ll all be racing next season.”

  “I… That’s actually not a bad idea.”

  “Of course it isn’t. I’m the one who came up with it. She already bought all that other stuff from me. Just make sure that when you test it, you redline that boost system. I want to see how it deals with atmospheric friction.”

  “Bought all that other stuff?” Lex said.

  “Lex is not privy to the context of that statement, Karter.”

  “Your boss… or her boss… whatever, somebody down there bought a ton of equipment from me and a design for—”

  “The details of that exchange are under a contractual gag order for three more weeks,” Ma interjected.

  “Damn lawyers… Whatever. Test the sled and let me know.” He dropped out of the call.

  “Karter is thankful for your continued service,” Ma said.

  “Yeah. Sounds like it. What exactly was all of that gag order stuff about?”

  “Legal restrictions prohibit me from explaining further than the following. I have endeavored to closely follow the development of your racing career, and in doing so my monitoring of Operlo made me aware of a series of requests for quotes and proposals that Karter would be capable of fulfilling on and for Operlo. He has done so.”

  “So there’s Karter tech floating around this planet?”

  “In both a literal and figurative sense, yes.”

  “I’m sure that’ll turn out well.”

  The conversation thus far had brought them to the shaded dog walk behind the apartment building. Lex was reasonably certain it was only there because of Squee, since none of the other racers had dogs, and the planet wasn’t terribly well suited to beasts with fur coats. The number-one class of pet was reptile, of which there was an assortment.

  Lex tugged his jacket a little closer as wind gusted across the path and kicked some dust into his face. It had dropped easily fifty degrees Celsius since the sun had set. If it got much colder, they’d be getting down into freezing temperatures. Still, it was a good time to walk Squee, since it gave her a chance to cool off.

  “With your permission, I would like to resume our earlier topic of conversation. Specifically, your failed attempts at betrothal.”

  “Uh-huh…”

  Ma had been the first person to know about Lex’s plans to marry Michella. There were two reasons for this. The first, Ma was without a doubt the most trustworthy person Lex knew. The second, she’d figured it out within three days of him making the decision. Since then she had been an invaluable voice of reason, helping him find people to craft the ring, providing feedback on his plans, and a thousand other little things. She was a good friend. That she treated this, as she did all social interactions, as something of a laboratory was a small price to pay.

  “Why did you choose to propose?”

  “I love her, Ma.”

  “You have loved her since college, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why did you wait until now to propose?”

  “Because for most of that time we were broken up.”

  “For the duration of my observation, your relationship has been in a constant state of tension. Anecdotal evidence suggests such has always been the case. So tumultuous a romantic arrangement would appear to be a non-ideal foundation for matrimony.”

  “Michella and I are spirited. This is what you get when two spirited people pair up. It’ll settle down when we’re married.”

  “What about the act of formalizing a relationship through a contract has a mitigating effect on the emotions and attitudes of those involved?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What is the basis for your determination that such a mitigating influence exists within matrimony?”

  “I just sort of assumed.”

  “It does not appear you are applying rigorous scientific reasoning to this issue, Lex.”

  “People don’t adhere to reason and rigor.”

  “Psychology is the result of brain chemistry. It should be as deterministic as any other chemical process.”

  “And yet it isn’t.”

  “Processing… You will excuse me if this observation is a source of continual unease for me.”

  “Hey, I’m not so happy about it myself. More often than not it screws us over.”

  “Processing… Processing…”

  “Sounds like you’re chewing on something big there, Ma.”

  “I have reviewed all the data available regarding your physiological and observed emotional state for the time that I have known you.”

&nbs
p; “What, just now?”

  “Yes.”

  “I guess that could take a while.”

  “Incorrect. The additional processing was required to determine what if any means of sharing my findings would reduce the negative psychological impact upon you.”

  Lex laughed. “No need for the kid gloves, Ma. I think I can take your adventures in amateur therapy.”

  “I do not think you are in love with Michella anymore, nor have you been for quite some time.”

  “… Oof.”

  “I shall elaborate. You clearly have a deep and enduring affection for her. Your friendship with her is in no danger. But the lack of reciprocity regarding your romantic overtures has caused a marked decrease in your overall happiness. This behavior certainly has not shifted to the degree that would make matrimony an obvious step. I have compiled a short list of motivations that I believe are at the root of your decision.”

  “I can’t wait to hear this.”

  “The first, and least likely in my assessment, is that you feel that the simple duration of the relationship warrants some sort of step forward, and this is the next logical step. Colloquially, this might be referred to as the ‘biological clock.’ Tautologically, you aren’t getting any younger.

  “The second is that you have lost Michella so many times, you feel something like marriage will provide you with a more enduring union. The desire for this permanent union is less motivated by the desire for togetherness than by the fear of further rejection.

  “Finally, and most specifically to your unique circumstances, you believe that you are literally destined to marry Michella.”

  “Okay, now that’s going to need explaining.”

  “The two of us are among only a handful of beings to have displaced ourselves temporally. During our trip to the past, we briefly encountered a future version of yourself. During that visit, you may have noticed that your future self was wearing a silver ring on his left hand. As we have every reason to assume that this version of yourself is in fact originating from a later date in what we would consider the prime timeline, it is literally inevitable that you would be married, and you are endeavoring to fulfill this criteria.”

  “That’s… wow.”

  “Your reaction indicates either I have achieved a very close alignment with your actual thought process, or I have completely failed to do so. Please specify.”