A young man in his late 20s, brown, wavy hair and dark-rimmed glasses greeted him at the bay doors when he opened them. Porter stared at him with a blank, hard stare, which didn’t seem to faze the young man in the slightest; he wore a goofy grin.
"Can I help you?" Porter asked, folding his arms in front of him.
MaBrown looked up, having forgotten the size of the man from the administrator's office. He grinned even wider. “Yes you can, actually. Got room for one more?"
Porter looked down at the young man. He remembered him from the Administrator’s office. They weren't hurting for money at the moment, but Porter had been in space long enough to know that could change. Another paying passenger would help pad the ship's finances for the future. As long as that money didn't come with a passenger that was more trouble than the money was worth. But then, he'd had plenty of those kind of passengers lately — what was one more?
"I don't think you want to go where we’re going," Porter started to reach for the door button.
"You know, I just might." MaBrown gave a sheepish grin, which appeared both embarrassed and unconcerned at the same time. He leaned onto the door jam, nonchalantly, but clearly intending to extend the conversation.
"Oh yeah. Well this ain't a free cab."
MaBrown said nothing, but reached into his bag, which he held behind him, and pulled out a credit reader. "Courtesy of the Star Runner, sir!"
Porter looked at the amount and nearly choked on the coffee he held, his second cup. He tried hard to conceal it, but the observant MaBrown grinned slightly at the effect it had.
Porter regained his composure a moment and nodded. "You're that reporter from before. From the administrator's office."
"MaBrown," he said. He held out his hand. Porter took it absently, still staring at the credit.
Then he looked up at MaBrown. "Why do you want to come with us? There's plenty of ships you can take, most with better accommodations. With this budget, you can take a real passenger ship, not stow away on some supply ship."
"And how many of those are headed to the Inner Circle?"
Porter raised his brow at this. He grabbed MaBrown by the shirt, dragging the surprised reporter into the causeway of the ship. "And why do you want to go there?" Porter let the question hang, not loosening his hold on the young man's shirt. His face was an inch from MaBrown’s. Money or no, he was starting to grow weary of complications.
"Do you need to wreck my shirt to find out?" MaBrown wore an expression that mixed between a grin and a grimace.
Porter relaxed, letting MaBrown's shirt fall back into place, straightening the material a little and looking around. "Sorry. Things have been tense. But the question remains."
MaBrown straightened himself out, rolling his shoulders a couple times. "I'm sure you've heard about the administrator. His resigning and all? Well, there's more to it. I think the Company has a habit of doing this."
Porter's eyebrow raised. "You're going to the Inner Circle for a story? You know how they feel about the press.” Porter pantomimed plucking a fly out of the air, putting it on the ground and stomping on it. Company executives didn’t like flies on the wall, proverbial or otherwise.
"Yet you're going. I haven't heard they're fond of "unofficial transporters," either." MaBrown stared straight ahead at Porter. Porter was surprised at the reporter's tenacity. MaBrown was physically unthreatening, about as much as they come, and yet he held no fear of asking hard questions.
“Xeno 420,” Porter said. “I don’t know if you follow racing, but our Isellia earned an invite with her fifth-place finish." MaBrown let it go at that, giving the nod he gave to elected officials when he knew they were hiding something but it wasn't the right time to ferret it out. There were plenty of races they could choose, outside the Inner Circle — he doubted that was the only reason. Timing was everything in journalism; he would wait.
"Besides," MaBrown said, picking up the conversation. "If I uncover this story, it will be the biggest of my career. My ticket will be written. I could take any job I want." MaBrown started to get excited, thinking about the scoop and imagining the headlines. "At least, I hope so." Over the years, he'd thought about the headlines he thought were going to make bigger splashes than they did. He didn't know what he expected, but something a little more dramatic than what usually happened.
"First you got to make it back." Porter looked around, thinking about where to put him. "You sure about this?" he asked. "There's no turning back once we start."
"Why not?" MaBrown asked.
Damned reporters and their questions. "Cause I ain't wasting the gas. And we're on a timetable."
MaBrown nodded. He could have argued further, but knew he would gain nothing by it. "My mind's made up. Got my bag packed."
"Two things, kid. Everything on the ship is off-the-record. We don't exist in anything you write."
"I wasn't going to anyway," MaBrown said, shaking his head. "I'm not the story, and neither are any of you. Though I'm sure the paper would love a post-race interview with Isellia. That OK?"
Porter nodded. "Sure, fine. And second. Stay out of the way. You can come with us, but we're not your shuttle service. You go where we go, and if you have to go off the ship, it's up to you to get yourself back."
"Gotcha." Isellia approached from the end of the hallway. She wanted to see who Porter was talking to.
"All right, welcome aboard. Isellia!" He said.
"What? Who's this chump?" She gave an inquisitive eye to MaBrown.
MaBrown returned her gaze, but his heart was aflutter and felt his throat tighten. He stared, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. His previous swagger was lost as he looked at her.
"This is our new passenger, Mr. … ?"
"MaBrown," MaBrown muttered. His eyes were transfixed on Isellia.
"Find him some quarters, Isellia," Porter asked.
Isellia snorted derisively and shrugged. "Whatever. This way."
Porter closed the porthole, taking one last glance at the station. He didn't even want to ask himself what they were getting into this time.
That concludes the first book of Robot Awareness! There are two more books in the series — check out Robot Awareness: The Inner Circle here: http://bit.ly/RobotAwar2; and Robot Awareness book three is being written as you read! I also have a novella, The Sand Runner, that can hold you over until book three! And don't forget to subscribe to the newsletter, The Star Runner, for all the latest news on my work. Thanks so much for reading!
Robot Awareness: Special Edition Page 40
