by A. R. Knight
“Who are you to make them choose? To tell them if they’re smart they’ll forget Merc, forget Lina and just run off to the edge of existence like this whole thing never happened?”
“I didn’t enjoy it,” Davin said, moving away from the wall and sitting on the bed. “That wasn't a speech I wanted to give. But we’re outgunned, Phyla. We wouldn’t even get the Jumper into Europa’s atmosphere before those fighters chewed us to pieces.”
“Maybe not, but don’t we owe it to Merc to try?”
“If you’ve got any ideas, now’s the time. Otherwise no, I don’t think we owe our lives to Merc,” Davin sighed. “Sorry, that sounded harsher than I meant. Tomorrow. If we can come up with a plan tomorrow, a way to get on that moon, find Marl, and stop this, then I won’t take the ship and go.”
“Then come with me.”
“Where?”
“Back out there. To the crew. If we’re going to solve this, it has to be together.”
Davin stood up from the bed, ran his hand through his hair.
“You and Lina, always changing my mind after it's made up.”
75
Back to Europa
Viola walked through the main doors of the hotel and, spying the crew, stepped over in their direction. It was closer to dawn than dusk, the lobby empty except for their crew. It’d taken help from Puk, flitting around corners to make sure her parents weren’t watching, to get out of the house. Viola had survived a kidnapping, fought mercenaries on another world, but had to sneak out of her own home like a teenager.
The Wild Nines looked miserable. Like they’d eaten lemons. Faces scrunched, downcast, tight.
“Hey,” Viola said as they looked over at her.
“Bad timing,” Mox muttered.
“Trying to think up a way back toEuropa,” Erick said. “You have any ideas?”
“She shouldn’t be involved,” Phyla said. “Her parents are giving us enough.”
“That’s why I came here, though,” Viola stepped closer, leaned on the table. “I don’t want to stay. I want togo with you.”
“This isn’t just a fun trip, Viola,” Opal said. “People get hurt.”
“You don’t think I know that?” Viola replied. “I was, literally, right there when Merc—”
“She knows,” Mox interrupted. “You are still innocent.”
“That’s what you think,” Viola countered.
“They’re trying to talk you out because they know going back to that moon is suicide,” Davin said. “Why add one more body to the mix?”
“Davin,” Phyla said.
“I was thinking about that, actually,” Viola said. “Eden Prime still has a lot of traffic, right? A constant stream of ships coming and going?”
Nobody answered. They stared at her. Davin's eyebrow ticked a centimeter higher.
“They know what the Whiskey Jumper looks like. Maybe they’re even tracking it somehow,” Viola continued. “So what if we used something else?”
“Another ship?” Phyla said. “We don’t have one.”
“You don’t. Galaxy Forge, though, has plenty.”
“And they’re just going to give us a ship?” Phyla said.
“Or are we going to take one?” Davin said.
“Bingo,” Viola said. “Puk can get us the access codes. Then all we have to do is head to the loading docks and take a ship.”
“Always love robbing from people who’re nice to us,” Davin said, shaking his head. “Viola, we have enough enemies. We don’t need to make more.”
“You’ll be leaving the Jumper as collateral. I’m sure it’s worth as much as one of those cargo haulers.”
“More,” Davin said.
“She’s smart,” Mox said.
“We’ll have cover, for a change,” Erick said. “Might even make it all the way to the surface without getting shot.”
“I’m sure we’ll get our fill of lasers anyway,” Davin said. “But I think that might work. Once we’re on the ground, we have a chance at getting to Marl.”
“And finding Merc,” Opal said. Davin looked at the group, their set faces. Time to call it.
“So we have a choice. Run, or fight,” Davin said. “We should vote. I know I’m the captain, but for this, everyone needs to decide for themselves.”
They all nodded.
“Then who’s for going back to Europa?” Davin said.
Phyla and Opal’s hands shot up right away. Viola’s a moment later. Mox and Erick a second after that. Davin looked across the table.
“Fine, you bastards. When you get shot, I don’t want to hear any complaining,” Davin said.
76
Hijackers
“Are you ready?” Viola asked Fournine, who sat on the bench, blinking its eyes.
The plan to take one of the company ships was simple. Viola would use her father’s access codes, phrases and key combinations she’d hacked years ago out of boredom. The staff would recognize her, and probably the rest of the Nines as well.Which meant turning to the one person Galaxy Forge didn't know existed.
Fournine stretched out its arms and wiggled each finger,testing the motion. It did the same with its feet, then flexed each joint. Viola knew, from looking at Fournine’s code, that this was part of the start-up sequence. In a couple of seconds, the real fun would begin.
“Who am I?” Fournine said, its voice a monotone.
“You’re an android,” Viola started.
“That is clear,” Fournine said, rotating its head to look at Viola.
The plaskin coating looked unnatural in the bright light. Fournine could adjust the tint at will and right now the plaskin was ghostly white. Absent of color. The hair was gray, its neutral state. Fournine looked like a person coated with flour. Despite the appearance, Fournine’s jaw worked as it spoke. Its eyes moved around the room, looking at objects even though the bot's cameras would have scanned the place already. Warm air pushed out of its mouth, shoved by tiny jets, to simulate breath. Viola shivered.
“I have a new personality for you,” Viola said. “If you’re ready for it.”
When Viola created Puk, it’d taken a while to get a personality that matched the bot. From the ones available to download, Viola had tweaked and tested, spinning the floating bot through turns as a noble prince, a dark and dour teenager, an innocent kid, and more. For a while there, Puk’s being changed to reflect Viola’s mood. Only, it was one thing to experiment with a small, harmless bot and another to tweak the state of a bot that could snap her in half without trying.
“I’m ready,” Fournine said.
Again Viola pressed her fingers to Fournine’s temples. The processing unit rose from its head, slots available for the personality chip, the drive containing the combat knowledge, and the piece that Viola and Trina removed and destroyed. The transmitter that connected Fournine back to the android's command center on Earth that sent it overriding orders,that could and would order Fournine to self-destruct after it didn't communicate.
Viola slipped the personality chip in the slot and pushed. With a click, the chip locked into place and, with another press to the temples, the processing unit slid back into Fournine’s head.
“You want me to be like this? Really? Cause I think you’re gonna regret it,” Fournine said as soon as its skull sealed. “I mean, there’s crazy, and then there’s what you’ve got here.”
“Where we’re going, we’ll need a little crazy.”
“Little, she says. Like calling a supernova a firework. But hey! I’m not here to judge. Just to do. Do it all.”
Viola left Puk with this personality for two days years ago. Then, unable to stand the meandering anecdotes about nothing and myriad death threats this personality matrix was prone to, she’d taken it out. Fournine, though, looked like it needed something spicy.
“Glad you’re excited. Here’s what we need you to do.”
77
Android Unleashed
Fournine’s internal clock put Ganymede’s cur
rent time as way too late. The factory and its accompanying bays didn’t recognize this, churning away refining ores along the third shift. Still, passing through the hallways and the empty way stations gave a good indicator of why nighttime missions were easier. Nobody bothered with the ancillary areas.
Every so often, making its way through the factory, Fournine had to stop and wave a card in front of a scanner. Each time, after a second, the scanner blinked green and the door opened. Fournine assumed the scans were logging somewhere, that someone would ask questions later about why these doors opened at such late hours. But nobody appeared to question the android. Which, as the chosen route to the bays was as out-of-the-way as possible, made sense.
Fournine wore a borrowed uniform from the manufacturing pits, a singular outfit that covered every inch of its body save its head in thick cloth the color of murky blue. If a fight broke out, the first task would be to tear off the uniform and get mobility back. As it was, Fournine clomped through the hallways, skin tinted to a realistic darker shade, attempting to match the slouching drudge of the other workers.
The first manned station was the last checkpoint before the bays. A lone member of the factory’s security, looking bored and dusty. The guard sat in a booth next to the locked gate and didn't say anything until Fournine attempted to swipe the card through.
“Hey there,” the guard said, perking up. “It’s after hours, so I’ll have to check you through.”
“Sure thing, my third-shift friend!” Fournine announced, stepping over to the booth and presenting the card.
The guard took it, looked at it with a crinkling brow.
“Say,” Fournine said. “Why’s it you look like you popped your head out of a mine shaft?”
The guard blinked for a second then took stock of his dirt-stained sleeves.
“Security here’s a rotation gig. You work a bit down in the trenches, then get a week up here,” the guard said the words, then narrowed his eyes at Fournine. “Though you should know that. Your card here gives you top-level clearance.”
“Consultant,” Fournine replied. “Just writing a report on the interesting parts.”
The guard grunted, then swiped the card through another reader in the booth. The gate opened with a chime and the guard handed the card back.
“Why’re you coming round so late, if you’re just writing a report?”
“You’re a suspicious one, aren’t you?” Fournine replied. “Do I tell you how to do your job?”
The guard took that, shrugged, and waved Fournine on. The miracles confidence could get you. Though perhaps Fournine had the advantage in that its programming prevented fear. Any normal person on the verge of being caught might sweat, shake, or stumble through their answers. Fournine didn’t care. If it was caught, it would dismantle anyone that stood in its way.
Speaking of, the long hallway stretching behind the bays now lay before Fournine. Only the farther ones were in use tonight, their bright lights filtering across the top of the hallway and giving signs of where not to go. It wasn’t hard to navigate a few bays and find an empty ship, powered down and large enough to hold ten. Fournine stepped into the bay and towards the ship. The ramp was raised, the ship's door shut.
“Here’s our first problem!” Fournine commed. “I’ve found our ride, but it’s not open. Shall I rip the door off?”
“We need it sealed or we’ll die up there,” Viola replied through the comm.
“You living creatures and your needs,” Fournine said.
“Such a drag, I know. What’s the model?”
“It’s a Cask Seven-Star.”
“Isn’t that a little big?”
“I'm sorry, I'll just continue my illegal wandering through the bay until we find the perfect fit,” Fournine said.
It heard Viola sigh over the comm.
“And we own this one?” Viola asked.
“It has your company’s name all over it.”
“Then the reset code is twenty-seven, twenty-four,” Viola said.
Fournine punched the numbers in and the ramp whistled, opened and slid down. Ah, the benefits of mass infrastructure and the consistency such operations required. Fournine stepped up the ramp, was almost into the ship, when bright lights came on behind him.
“Hey! What’re you doing in there?” Shouted the same guard from back at the booth.
“Believe I told you?” Fournine yelled back. “Need to see how this one is being used. Sitting here in the bay isn’t making anyone any money, you know?”
“I checked with operations and nobody knows about any consultant coming by tonight! Come back out here so we can figure this out.”
Fournine ran the odds. It could run back,knock the guard unconscious, and then get on board the vessel in under thirty seconds. However, if the guard called for any back-up, they could seal the bay faster than the ship could take off. Feigning ignorance gave a better return.
“I don’t want to be here any longer than necessary,” Fournine replied. “Either wait down there a minute or come up. The inspection won’t take long.”
As the guard wavered, Fournine went inside the ship and strode to the cockpit. Unlike the Jumper, the cargo vessel’s cockpit was at the aft. This let most of the cargo slide forward where workers and bots could unload it easily. As Fournine stepped into the spacious enclosure, with seating enough for four, soft lighting came on. A tap on the console started the pre-flight check, with greens popping up across the board. The ship wasn’t broken, then.
“I have a guard problem,” Fournine commed. “I’ve delayed him for a minute, but curiosity will win out before too much longer.”
“You’re not supposed to hurt anyone,” Viola replied.
“I won’t hurt him much, I promise.”
A clanking noise echoed through the ship and towards the cockpit. The guard walking up the ramp. An unfortunate decision. Fournine punched the button for engine warm-up, and as the soft rumble of moving energy filled the vessel, the android went back to greet the guard.
“Why are you setting the ship up to launch?” The guard asked as he crested the ramp and found Fournine standing there.
“Part of the routine. The quality of the ship is an important part of the report. Can’t measure loading efficiency accurately if you don’t know how ready the ships are for flight.”
“My supervisor’s on his way, you know. So if you’re lying to me, now’s the time to get out,” the guard said, hand moving to a holstered sidearm.
Fournine followed the guard’s arm, holding its own hands up.
“The threats are unnecessary,” Fournine said. “Besides, if anyone will be throwing threats, it should be me.”
“What?” The guard said as Fournine reached forward.
The guard tried to draw his weapon, but Fournine’s raised right hand moved fast, locking the drawing arm to the guard’s side. With his left hand, Fournine pressed hard to the guard’s throat. The thing with humans is that without their oxygen, they crumble awfully fast. A few seconds struggle later and the guard went limp in the android’s arms. Taking its hand away, Fournine felt the faint pulse and sudden intake of breath that signaled life.
“Your guard will have a headache, but he’ll wake up tomorrow,” Fournine commed after dumping the guard on the bay floor.
Minutes later, as the guard’s supervisor rounded the corner into the bay, Fournine lifted the Cask Seven Star out of the bay and over the dark amber of Ganymede’s surface.
78
Incoming
Europa didn’t look as blue this time. Viola saw the moon through the cargo hauler’s cameras, projecting the image on the flat wall on the back of the cockpit. Fournine was the only other person up there with her. When Europa’s flight control tried to figure who was trying to land a cargo ship on their moon, they wouldn’t see any faces they recognized. Davin and the others were getting ready near the loading ramp, ready to spring out as soon as the hauler landed on solid ground.
The first hail
came as Europa grew large enough to dominate the view. The auto-pilot, using Phyla’s programmed route, was already firing jets to slow the hauler and get it ready for atmosphere.
“This is Eden Prime to the, uh, Big Bertha. What’s the nature of your visit?”
“We’re here to drop sweet, sweet ore in your laps,” Fournine replied.
Viola slapped the mute button and glared at the android.
“How about you let me answer the rest of the questions?” Viola said.
“What’s the problem?” Fournine said. “You think he’s having a boring day? Cause it sounds like he’s having a boring day. He didn’t even laugh at the name of the ship. We should cheer him up. Especially cause when we land and it gets out that he let a bunch of wanted mercenaries into their base, his day will get a lot worse.”
“Just shut up, please.”
“You made me the way I am.”
“Big Bertha,” said the flight controller. “We’ll have a bay ready for you, number four. If you wouldn’t mind adjusting your approach to match the coordinates, I’m sending your way.”
“Appreciate it,” Viola replied.
No ask for identification, no statement on the number of crew, or even the types of ore they were bringing? Viola had spent time, during one of her father’s endless career-day initiatives, in the flight control rooms on Ganymede. The list of questions and protocols to follow to get a good idea of what was landing on your planet was a long one.
“Davin?” Viola commed.
“What’s up?”
“We’re through, but I’m not thrilled about it.”
“Seems like you should be, if we’re in the clear.”
Viola relayed the concerns, to which Davin, in a tone of voice Viola recognized as whaddya want me to do about it, replied that the whole thing would be a mess anyway. So long as they didn’t have to fight in Big Bertha’s slow, weaponless metal box, things couldn’t be that bad. Hard to argue with that logic.
