"The only photo you're going to get is of my exhaust dusting your pretty little ship," Isellia said, smirking. "But I'm sure you have people to clean that, too, just like you have people do all your work on the ship."
"Jealous?” Veda asked smugly.
"Nope. A real pilot works on her own ship."
"How about I give you a real view of a real pilot right now?"
In a blink, Veda fired her thrusters and blasted out into the practice field, blowing by other XR racers who were scouting the course at slower speeds — which is what one is supposed to do during the practice period. Isellia knew that but couldn’t resist the chase. Her wings shifting back into speed mode as she caught up with Veda She flew a defensive distance on her upper right flank.
"Hmm, not bad Isellia. But let's see you do this!" They were coming up on a pair of XRs scanning the course. Veda spun her XR so that it was vertical as it passed them, fitting neatly into the space between them. She completed the spin as she exited the gap.
Isellia did the same, but spun an entire rotation before spinning vertically as she passed through the gap. She grinned. Her finger flicked the intercom off, cutting off the expletives the two pilots screamed at them as Isellia’s and Veda’s crafts sped past.
"Step ahead of you, Veda," she mocked.
"Hmph," Veda pouted. "Looks like you're starting to learn a thing or two...”
They cruised at full speed, nose and nose, the space in front of them empty for some distance.
"Well, I wasn't going to show you this until the race, but, oh well — it won't matter much anyway."
"Show me what?"
"Bye, Isellia," she said. Her ship slowed, like it was running out of power. Then suddenly it exploded forward, blasting by Isellia before she could react.
"How did she...?" Isellia sat with her mouth agape. Veda’s engineers had found some way to boost power internally, at least for a moment, and without any outside devices. XRs could be tuned however a pilot wanted, but no aftermarket parts could be used and ships were inspected for illegal modifications. Even Veda wouldn’t try to sneak one past — it wouldn’t be worth the risk. That meant Veda’s engineers had figured out some way to get that speed punch with the stock parts of an XR. And she had no idea how.
But it meant it was possible. Isellia just had to figure it out.
Flashing lights interrupted her planning as her console glowed red. Her speed slowed automatically, her controls dead as a police force cruiser pulled up beside her. As the XR slowed to a crawl, she came up on Veda’s craft, already dead in space.
"This is the race patrol," a new voice said over her speaker. “Racing is prohibited on all practice courses, per rule section B, article 5. A warning has been issued. Please proceed—”
“Ah, come on, we were just trying it out," Isellia pleaded.
“Please proceed to the start of the practice field, and refrain from any—“
"Yeah, yeah," she rolled her eyes, flicking the intercom off. The warning didn’t concern her, and she was pretty sure she was done practicing for the day anyway. What did concern her was finding a way to get a boost out of her XR before she was due on the starting line.
Chapter 29
Isellia took note of everything she passed on the course — a sharp vertigo loop, a diamond debris field (they all had names like these, the vernacular of XR racers) — as she guided the ship behind the patrol cruiser. She likely could have outrun the cruiser. They were designed to be quick, but none were likely as intricately tuned as an XR used in a race circuit. But the cruisers had the ability to shut down any race ship at any moment, provided it was within a certain range. The ability stemmed from a module all racers were required to install in their ship as part of registration. It served as a tracking beacon, both for entertaining viewers who could follow along on the race when a camera wasn’t trained on them, and in case of trouble, a cruiser could track them down quickly. It also allowed the cruisers to stop them in their tracks, if they broke the rules.
Isellia didn’t like the idea of being tracked, but installed it nonetheless. Being stuck on a race course without any way to get help was far worse than a little superstition.
Soon, the rusty, red, raised platform appeared on the horizon, visible beyond the white and black patrol ship's flashing red lights. Other XRs slowly roared by them as they launched and landed on the platform, either coming back from their practice runs or getting ready to make them.
Isellia had been reckless. She knew that. Other competitors would have an advantage since, unlike her, they will have seen the entire race course. She hadn't made it even halfway to the turnaround, a large funnel of energy conducting rings. XRs ride through the tunnel and are flung back to the start line, like flying through a big curved pipe. The turnaround required special timing and just the right level of speed — too much might send ships through the pipe and racers would have to expend a lot of time and energy getting back on course, putting them much farther back from their previous position. It wasn’t hard for a conservative racer to find the sweet spots, but most liked to push their speed to the max and still make it around the turnaround without centrifugal force pushing them into space.
Like much of XR racing, it was a gamble. Isellia had been on the losing end of that gamble enough times to know.
"You will return to your respective landing platforms," the voice from the patrol ship said.
"Oh, I wouldn't dream of doing anything other than what you ask," Veda cooed over the intercom. "I wouldn't want to be punished." She put emphasis on this last word.
"Um, yes, well,” the voice on the other end stuttered, as Isellia rolled her eyes. The voice cleared its throat. "See that you do.”
"I'd be happy to punish you, if you want," Isellia said dryly, pulling into her platform. She noticed Joey waiting at the side port as she eased her craft down onto the rusty surface on the Farven Point surface. When Isellia opened the cockpit door, Joey ran to the ship. "Not too close, bucko!" she said, warning him off. “She’s still hot.”
Joey stopped, but still retained a look of urgency. "It's Rex," he finally said, panting a little as he caught his breath.
"What about him?" Isellia asked. She hardly paid Joey any attention as her mind remained buried deep in the heart of her engine.
"He's been arrested!"
Isellia stared at Joey a moment while her mind processed the information before hopping down from her ship. She blew past Joey, and he wheeled around to follow, scrambling to keep up as he ran after her.
***
The city center, which MaBrown still sometimes called “city hall” out of a nostalgia for Old Earth customs, buzzed with activity the next morning, far busier than it was on a typical weekday morning. Throngs of people pushed their way in and out of doors, city employees he recognized rushed in and out of offices inside the building, and a cruiser bearing the logo of one of the city's holonet video news companies parked in one of the press stalls in a prime space outside the white building’s front doors. MaBrown usually preferred to walk, since the Star Runner building was not terribly far away from the center.
As MaBrown pushed open the glass door that led to the main building of the city center, he began to see where the swarm had landed — already a crowd of people had gathered in front of the administrator’s office, and the noise of their muttering, wondering and speculating wafted toward him like the rush of air when he opened the second set of glass doors.
Trzbz, Hacker and several other members of the council stood amongst the crowd, which appeared to be waiting for something. Several holoers, the slang for employees of holonet video news companies, stood at the ready in front of the administrator’s closed door. That was unusual given the administrator’s open door policy of which he often boasted, although it really only meant the door to his secretary was open — most of the time, his actual office door was shut. This outer door being shut was unusual.
MaBrown recognized several other officials from departme
nts such as Parks, Media Relations, the Holonet coordinator and others amongst the crowd. Many saw and recognized him and waved, or nodded their head toward him briefly; all of them were rife with anticipation. Leeds, who MaBrown had forgotten all about in his rush to get to the center, stood with his arms crossed. He didn’t look happy at being blown off — then again, he rarely looked happy.
MaBrown was attempting to avoid Leeds’s angry stare when his buzzer went off. MaBrown pushed a button on top of it, turning his back to the crowd. A small, holographic panel appeared above the device, at a distance some engineer long ago figured out was the optimal for reading.
It was a text. “From: Taylin. Press Conference in 15 minutes, Mayor's office. Big announcement, release vague.”
MaBrown typed in a quick text back: “Already here.” He grinned, thinking it would make him look on top of things. Of course it was by mere chance that he happened to be going toward the city center anyway, but it never hurt to give himself a boost in the eyes of the boss, he thought.
Notebook at the ready, stylus ready to record electronically his scribbled interpretation of the day’s events (he was one of the few who actually wrote anymore; even written-word journos were using holo-recorders), he awaited with the others the opening of the mayor's door.
***
“A few things to bear in mind," the man sitting across from Malvers’ desk hissed. Malvers jumped a little; he did so every time the man with no face spoke. His voice chilled, its lack of humanity a black hole that seemed to suck vitality into its void. Ordinary men felt vulnerable to its pull, because living material is no match for the finality of death, and his voice echoed from the depths of the non-living world.
At least, that was the impression left with anyone who had the misfortune of meeting the man with no face.
“N-Now, I-I’ve laid things out according to the plan,” the administrator said, trying to sound confident but failing.
The man leaned back in the chair opposite Malvers, that blank void seeming to stare at him underneath its lid. “Good,” the man hissed. “You’ll hold the press conference. Tell everyone about the mistake made last night. The new commission you’re about to form is the proper body to make the decision about that sector. It was all a big mistake. Then you’ll deny reports that Company C has anything to do with this. Demand that the paper prints a retraction.”
Malvers wiped sweat from his brow, a bit dripping on one of his finest metallic suits. “Now, I know we’ve discussed this,” Malvers said, emphatically karate chopping his hand onto the conference table as he laid out his points. “But I’m still uncomfortable about saying that. There will be an investigation.”
“They’ll find nothing.”
“Yes, but how can you—”
“Need I show you the definition of ‘uncomfortable?’” The blank man said with a tone that suggested Malvers need not answer. Malvers sighed, slumping in his chair.
“I’ve told you about taking no questions,” he continued. “You shut the door and take no further calls. Are we clear?”
Malvers nodded. He would have said nearly anything to make this abomination stop talking. He had no idealizations that this approach was the company’s first option. Obviously this was plan B, since his apparent assassination attempt had failed. Who was the man who knocked him out, and why hadn’t he killed him?
"Ok, I'm ready."
"Are you?" the man with no face leaned back, and somehow seemed to be examining him, looking him over from head to toe. Malvers couldn’t have explained how he felt that.
"Let's just get this over with," Malvers said. His stomach churned and he nervously straightened his suit’s lapels. He wanted to run past them all, those waiting in the hall, he wanted to simply run and never look back, rather than do what he was about to do. Malvers had done some things in his time as administrator. Things the press, especially that son of a bolt MaBrown, would have a field day with. He lied, he cheated, he bent the rules or interpreted them in ways that benefited him more than they were supposed to. He was not an honest politician.
But everything he did was for the benefit of Farven Point. He never once acted in a way that would knowingly damage the city — his city, the one he grew up in, the one he was married in and the one he expected to die in.
Before today.
He grabbed the doorknob to the waiting room, which would lead to the outside world. There waited the mob of press and city officials. Once outside, there would be no return. He couldn't go back.
He turned the knob with little resolve. A hand, impossibly cold, stopped him as it rested on his shoulder. He couldn't contain a visible shudder.
"Don't worry about me," the voice of the man with no face hissed. "I'll let myself out. You know what you need to do ...”
The man pressed a little harder on his shoulder, sending waves of cold into his flesh through the expensive material of his suit.
“... And what will happen if you don’t.”
Malvers shuddered a moment, before opening the door.
***
Isellia ran. Her feet stamped the pavement, striking it like a stomp kick with each step, paired with a slight scraping sound of dirt rolling between the soles of her boots. Sweat stained the front of her flight suit, formed rings around her armpits, pooled on the back her neck in the crease of her collar. Her thoughts raced as frantically as her body moved, as she made her way toward the docking bay.
She didn’t know what happened but she felt a desperate need to find out.
***
Malvers opened the door and the crowd went into a frenzy, faster than he could have imagined. He blinked, and waited a second to take it all in. He could see it in their eyes — they were hungry. This was the kind of story the media craved, holovideo and print, citizen journos looking to buzz the info as quickly as possible. He recognized most faces but realized there were several he didn't — media from other cities made the trip out to Farven Point. Reporters from some of the larger nearby cities on the planet made their way out to get the story of the mayor who nearly let Company C into Farven Point.
Now he had to stand in front of this gathering of hungry reporters, and swear to them that it all had been a mistake; all the while actually working allow entry to Company C.
Malvers was a skilled politician, but he wondered if he had the skills to pull this off.
Chapter 30
Porter, Kenpur, the robot and Stephen heard Isellia’s loud footsteps long before she approached them. They watched her break her stride and come stumbling to a stop in front of them, huffing and puffing at the effort. Running wasn’t one of Isellia’s favorite activities, but when she heard the news about Rex, she burst into a sprint.
"Where —" she began, pausing to suck in as much oxygen as she could. Isellia leaned on a nearby crate, gasping for air. She hunched over, trying every once in a while to get words out before needing to take in more air.
“Just catch your breath a moment, Isellia,” Porter said. He looked at Kenpur, who nodded. “Rex was arrested. He’s been taken away.”
"Taken?" she managed to get out, still hunched over with her hands on her knees. "Taken... where? Why... was... he arrested?” she asked, struggling for breath on each word.
“He said some company goons tried to attack the administrator,” Porter explained. He wiped them out, but knocked out the administrator as well. When the authorities came, they found only Rex's DNA signature on the administrator’s suit. None of the Company C soldiers touched him. They didn't have time."
"But couldn't we just explain it to them?" She’d gained her breath enough to stand upright.
"There's no evidence,” Porter said. “The only evidence is that Rex was the one who attacked the administrator."
"But we know he didn't do it!" she protested.
"And why would they believe us, a group of two-bit smugglers?" Porter asked.
“We can’t worry about that right now,” Kenpur said. “Rex will be fine.”
&n
bsp; "What do you mean ‘can’t worry right now?’ I’m worried!” Porter had to lunge to grab Isellia before she got to Kenpur. She kicked and punched at the air as Porter bear-hugged her off the ground.
"You'll see," Kenpur said, walking back into the ship. “Focus on the race. That is critical.”
“Critical for what?” Isellia struggled against Porter’s grasp, gritting her teeth. “What is all this for? Why won’t you tell us already?”
“Everything,” Kenpur said, not bothering to look back at her. “For Rex, too.”
Isellia scoffed. She shrugged off Porter’s grasp. Isellia looked Kenpur up and down, then shook her head and walked toward their ship.
***
Porter slumped into a chair on the bridge. Isellia leaned on the railing behind the ship, absently blowing her bangs out of her face. The two sat in silence a moment, listening to the random sounds of the port.
"I don't like this," she said finally.
"Me neither," Porter said.
“I don’t know what we’re caught up in, but it’s definitely something.”
“I’ve had that same feeling lately,” Porter said.
"Well, can't you do something?" she asked abruptly. "You are the captain, aren't you?" she glared at him, and he returned with a glare of his own.
"And do what, exactly? What would you suggest?" Porter said this with little emotional inflection, but Isellia could tell he was boiling inside.
“It feels like we’re pawns or something,” she said.
"Sometimes pawns get turned into queens."
"What?"
"Chess."
"Chess? Is that another one of your Old Earth antiques?”
Porter sighed. "Yes, it's one of my Old Earth antiques.”
"Well what the heck does that even mean? Why can't you just say things normally? Like everything has to be some big riddle. You're as bad as that old man. In fact, I think you’re jealous cause he's even more old and kooky than you. That's it, isn't it?"
Robot Awareness: Special Edition Page 32
