by Isaac Hooke
“I hope so.”
The robot chef appeared and filled Rade’s plate with chicken and rice, along with a serving of salad.
“What do you think we’ll find tomorrow?” Lui said.
“At the Russian base?” Rade said between mouthfuls of rice. “I’m not sure. Though the Russians will deny anything is amiss, I’m sure.”
During the message exchange with the base, Rade had told the Russians that the Argonaut intended to conduct scientific research on the composition of the mantle near the edge of the temperate zone. That was a good excuse, but Rade and his team also needed a plausible reason to enter the base itself. Surus had obtained approval from the Russian government to use the base’s surface exploration vehicle, and Rade had showed that approval to the base commander, giving him the excuse he needed. Still, no doubt the Russians were wondering: if his was indeed a crew of scientists, why did they arrive within an armed Marauder class ship?
“You think they suspect the real reason we’re here?” TJ asked. The Italian had changed into a T-shirt and cargo pants to flaunt the tattoos of mechs and rivets inked into his arms.
“That we’ve come to capture a Phant?” Rade said. “It’s possible. Especially if the Phant is in control of the base. But if he’s hidden among them, biding his time within an Artificial host, then the scientists will have no idea. They’ll be caught by surprise when we emerge from the shuttle with our rifles and subdue the base.”
Rade finished his meal and bid the three of them good night. They stayed behind to play some sort of VR war game.
Rade collected a bun from the galley for Shaw and returned to the stateroom. Inside, Shaw was fast asleep. Rade kissed her on the forehead, set the bun down on the nightstand near her, and then joined her on the bunk.
Might as well get some sleep. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.
The mattress sunk deeply underneath him, drawing her recumbent form into him. She murmured softly, apparently waking for a moment, then snuggled against his chest and fell asleep once more.
Rade rested a hand uncertainly on her belly. It felt odd, knowing that there were two unborn human beings resting inside, just underneath the skin. He had completed his biological purpose by creating those twins.
Now he faced the long, arduous task of raising them.
He wasn’t sure he was up to the task. He didn’t feel ready. He had tried to plan for what was coming, both mentally and physically. There wasn’t much he could do intellectually, other than visualize the best future he possibly could for his unborn children. On the physical side of things, he had 3D-printed a bunk-bed style crib and rearranged the already cramped stateroom to fit it. After reviewing the child rearing VR experience with his Implant, he quickly changed his mind and, against Shaw’s objections, he had moved the cribs to sickbay—he didn’t need crying babies keeping him up all night, not when he had a ship to run. The argument he had with Shaw over that move was epic, and she hadn’t talked to him for days thereafter. She had thawed, eventually, but maybe she was finally starting to realize that he wasn’t the best father material.
I was made for fighting wars, not raising children.
He had downloaded nursing programs into two Centurions, Cora and Dora, who he planned to assign to sickbay 24-7 after the birth. Combat robots acting as wet-nurses. That would be fun to see. And probably a little bit humiliating to the Centurions in question.
Yes, he had done all he could to plan for what to him was really an unplanned pregnancy. Shaw had essentially blindsided him, stopped taking her contraception pills on a whim, thinking it would give him a reason to stay alive on missions. The problem was, he already had all the reasons he needed to stay alive, some of which included her, others his men, and still others his own drive and unwillingness to ever give up. But she hadn’t seen that, for some reason. Perhaps it was the odd behaviors he exhibited at times. He would shut himself away in the head, or his jumpsuit, and refuse to talk or see anyone for hours on end. So maybe he was partly to blame for the strange conclusions she had drawn about him.
So he couldn’t really feel mad at her. And after all, despite his misgivings, this was his biological purpose, as much as he might try to delay or deny it.
But for all his preparations, the fact still remained: he didn’t feel ready. He supposed no parent ever was, no matter how much planning he or she did.
Rade gently patted Shaw’s belly and withdrew his hand.
Good night, little ones.
two
Rade and the others were suiting up in the mech hangar bay. Although they planned to journey to the surface via the shuttles, which were located in the first hangar bay—where more jumpsuit lockers awaited—the team preferred the customized gear they had here. The jumpsuits in the first bay were meant more for the combat robots than anything else.
Rade began donning the tight cooling and ventilation undergarment—it was difficult stretching the designated holes in the fabric over the different hardpoints protruding from his knees, hips, shoulders, elbows, and wrists, but he managed after much flexing. Beside him, the other Argonauts similarly struggled, the muscles in their necks and arms cording. Not all of them had hardpoints embedded in their joint regions like him, but some of the men had definitely put on some weight since their younger days. Rade would have to increase PT and start food rationing at this rate.
We’ve been spending too much sedentary time aboard this ship.
He wished there was enough room to install a proper running track. The small gym aboard with its weights and treadmills was one thing, but an actual track another thing entirely. For jogging purposes, nothing really beat the latter.
He made a note on his Implant to increase PT at a minimum once they got back from this mission.
Rade finished putting on the undergarment and began donning the actual suit itself. He leaned inside the locker to grab the torso assembly, but it snagged on one of the internal hooks and it took him a moment to free it.
He heard what sounded like scuffling nearby—the squeak of boots on the deck, and the sickly thud of fists striking flesh.
He stepped away from his locker to gaze at the Argonauts suiting up beside him. Not unexpectedly, Manic and Bender were exchanging rapid punches to their midsections. They must have had eyes on the backs of their heads—either that or one of the other Argonauts had sent a text message to their Implants, because they immediately pulled apart and did their best to act like nothing had happened. They both wore leg assemblies, but had yet to don the remainder of their jumpsuits, so they continued suiting up.
Blood dripped conspicuously from Manic’s nose.
“That time of the month, is it?” Bender said. “Need a tampon, bitch?”
“Huh?” Manic said.
“You got blood dripping from your pussy,” Bender clarified.
Manic frowned, apparently confused, but then some sensation must have returned to his upper lip, because he wiped the blood away, giving Rade a sheepish smile. His front teeth were crimson.
Rade shook his head. “Get that cleaned up, Manic.”
Bender reached behind his utility belt and offered Manic a baby wipe.
Manic casually grabbed the proffered tissue from Bender. “Thanks.” He dabbed at his nose. “I still can’t believe you keep baby wipes in your utility belt, though.”
“That’s because you’re a bitch,” Bender said, smiling to expose his golden grille. It was also covered in blood, coincidentally.
“You keep the wipes because I’m a bitch?” Manic said. “Or I can’t believe it because I’m a bitch?”
“Both,” Bender said.
Manic finished wiping his nose. He casually examined the crimson tissue in his hand for a moment, and then tossed it to Bender.
“Son of a bitch!” Bender batted the tissue aside as if it were a deadly frag grenade. “Don’t throw your bloody snot rags at me you sick mofo!”
“I’m a sick mofo!” Manic said. “Hear that, bros?”
“I think he meant it in the negative sense,” Lui said.
“Dude, you’re the dumbest bitch I know,” Bender told Manic.
“And you’re the smartest,” Manic grinned.
Bender stared at him uncertainly, apparently unable to think of a suitable comeback. Finally, he grinned, and said: “That’s right.”
The pair continued dressing in silence.
Rade decided to ignore the incident. He didn’t want to dock their pay even further for the month, as it was getting low enough already.
He glanced at Tahoe and sent him a text: They just need a mission to get them back into the swing of things, you say?
Tahoe shrugged and sent back: They’re just getting themselves into the Phant hunting mood. I wouldn’t worry about it. Trust me. They haven’t been fighting any more than they normally do.
I’ve just been noticing it more, you’re saying? Rade sent.
Precisely, Tahoe replied.
Probably because Shaw was pregnant, Rade thought, which made all the little flaws in the environment around him stand out even more readily.
Rade shook his head. He told her having kids aboard was a bad idea, but did she listen? Nooo...
He dismissed the negative thoughts. He had a mission to focus on.
He finished suiting up and the inner environment pressurized. The sonic injector in the glove introduced an accelerant into his bloodstream, allowing his body to rapidly acclimate to the suit.
He walked into the external passageway and made his way to the second hangar bay, where the shuttles were waiting. Two combat robots were coming along for the mission: Algorithm and Brat. Like Cora and Dora and the other Centurions, Rade had decided to stop thinking of them as Units A and B and so forth, and instead mentally referred to them by the nicknames TJ had assigned. Hopefully, it would help him to stop treating the robots as if they were expendable. Their AIs were sentient and self-aware, and not just some expense on a balance sheet for tax purposes.
The combat robots had suited up. It wasn’t entirely necessary for the Centurions to wear jumpsuits, but Rade usually had the robots joining the party do so, if only to make them indistinguishable from the humans among the squad—in combat situations, humans were often targeted first, as they were usually in command. Also, since the robots didn’t actually use any of the oxygen tanks or liquid meal replacement stores in the suits, they were effectively carrying along a readily available backup supply.
Surus was there, next to the jumpsuit lockers, along with another woman, presumably the Artificial that hosted Corunna. The two had apparently arrived late, and were in the process of suiting up. They had only just donned their cooling and ventilation undergarments, and were pulling on the leg assemblies of the jumpsuits.
Corunna momentarily glanced at the party, then continued to apply the suit. Rade felt his heart rate quicken slightly when he saw how ravishing she was. Corunna was just as beautiful as Ms. Bounty—Surus’ host—but it was the novelty factor, the newness, that made her looks all the more potent in Rade’s eyes. He reminded himself that she was a robot covered in artificial skin, with an AI core currently possessed by an alien. But apparently not all of the crew were able to make that distinction...
“Damnnnnn.” Bender walked toward her immediately.
“What is it with these Greens?” Fret said. “They always have to choose the most beautiful bodies.”
Bender reached her, then took off his helmet and held it in one arm. He removed his glove.
“Well hello there,” Bender said, extending a hand. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.”
Corunna ignored Bender entirely as she shrugged on her upper body assembly.
“Here baby, let me help you with that.” Bender extended an arm toward her.
Surus’ hand shot out and grabbed him before his fingers could reach the other woman. “Bender, please. As you value your life, you will refrain from touching her.”
“What, you’re saying she’s even more unfriendly than you?” Bender asked.
“Trust me, you don’t want to touch Corunna,” Surus said.
Bender frowned, then broke free of Surus’ grasp. “Fine. I didn’t want to talk to the bitch anyway.”
Bender angrily shoved on his glove as he retreated, and gruffly reattached his helmet.
“Aww, look at Bender pout,” Manic said.
“Shut the eff up, bitch,” Bender told him.
“Now I see why Bender usually sticks exclusively to men,” Fret commented.
Bender’s hand shot out and he grabbed Fret by the handle on his chest assembly, hoisting him into the air. “If you don’t shut it—”
“That’s sweet,” Corunna said suddenly. She was gazing at her boots as she pulled them on. “Surus told me about you, Bender. She said you were one of the bravest humans she ever met.”
Bender dropped Fret as if he didn’t exist, and turned around to face her. He seemed stunned. “She said that?”
“She also said you could be crude at times,” Corunna said. “But it was your way of showing affection.”
“Crude?” Bender said. “I don’t even know the meaning of the word, hot-stuff. I’m the biggest gentleman you’ll ever meet.”
Manic and Fret snickered.
Corunna pulled on her gloves and then donned her helmet. When the suit pressurized, she finally turned toward Bender and met his eyes. She extended a gloved hand. “I am Corunna. It is an honor to meet you all. The humans who fought in the First Alien War. The humans who helped defend my homeworld from the Hydra. I must apologize if I seem rude. I am unused to this concept of socializing. And Bender, know that I struggle to contain my essence inside these hosts. If you had touched the skin of my Artificial, there was a chance I would have flowed onto your arm, and accidentally incinerated you.”
“Oh,” Bender said. “I appreciate your not doing that.”
Bender glanced uncertainly at her proffered hand.
“It’s safe, now that I’m wearing a jumpsuit,” Corunna said.
“Who’s the pussy now?” Manic said.
“Hey, his hacker name is Pussywillow, after all,” Fret said.
“Har har.” Bender shot the two a scowl, and then shook her hand.
Corunna moved between the others, shaking theirs in turn.
“Thank you for agreeing to take on this mission,” she told Rade.
“I actually didn’t have much choice in the matter,” Rade said. “Surus told me we were going to this planet, and here we are. She pays us, after all.”
“No,” Corunna said. “I meant, thank you for taking on the arduous task of Phant hunting, in general. You could have said no. Instead, you help us. And for that I will be forever grateful.”
Bender stepped forward. “Well, to prove how grateful you are, let’s plan drinks sometime. Me and you. When you’re better able to contain your liquidy green self, I mean.”
“That may be quite some time, unfortunately,” Corunna said.
“How long are we talking?” Bender asked. “A couple of weeks?”
“No,” Corunna said. “Decades. Perhaps centuries.”
“That’s fine,” Bender said. “Look me up in two hundred years.”
“Leave it to Bender to plan his lays two hundred years in advance,” Manic quipped.
“Hey, it’s all part of the long game,” Bender said. “I’ve had lays take years before. You gotta plant the seeds early to profit in this game. Look at how long it took the boss and Shaw to finally get together.”
Corunna activated the reflective coating of her faceplate, concealing her features.
“Why the mirrored faceplate?” TJ asked.
“Since I have trouble containing myself to my host, sometimes my natural form breaks through to my face,” Corunna explained. “Making it look like I’m perspiring green droplets. Thus, I have learned it is best not to reveal myself to people in general, if I can help it.”
“But we know who you are already,” Tahoe said. “It’
s not going to faze us.”
“Even so,” Corunna said, “it makes me more comfortable, knowing that you will not see me during one of my lapses.”
This Phant is weird, Lui texted on a private squad channel, directly to the Implants.
They’re all weird, Fret replied.
Why are you texting? Tahoe returned. Create a private comm channel.
Too lazy, Lui sent.
As if creating a private comm channel is harder than making a private text channel! Bender sent. WTF bitches!
The group proceeded into the shuttles. All of them were armed with laser rifles, including Corunna—Rade had given her authorization. Surus carried a Phant stun rifle in addition to a laser rifle.
Since only two combat robots were coming with them, the Argonauts could have fitted entirely within a single shuttle, but it was safer to take two. And besides, he didn’t have to worry about the expenses—Surus covered the launches as this was a Phant-related mission.
Rade took his seat aboard the Dragonfly-shaped shuttle. Clamps telescoped in from either flank, securing him. The others assigned to the shuttle took their places beside and across from him.
After boarding, Bender said: “And I thought Surus was smoking. They’re like the hottie sisters. Never seen aliens with finer asses. I can’t believe that hot bitch has been hiding on this ship all this time without introducing herself to me. I’d be laying her already if she had. I’d teach you a few things about charm, Manic. Why—”
“Uh, you’re speaking on the common band,” Surus said.
An expression of sheer panic came over Bender’s face.
“So much for the biggest gentleman she’ll ever meet, huh?” Manic said. “Guess you just ruined your long game...”
The panic quickly vanished. “Not at all,” Bender said nonchalantly. “This is all part of it. Hot and cold, baby. Her pussy’s soaking wet right now.”
“She doesn’t have a pussy,” Manic said. “She’s a robot.”
“Hey, Artificials are anatomically correct,” Bender said. “Just ask Harlequin. Right, Harley boy?”
