Argonauts 1: Bug Hunt

by Isaac Hooke

  BOOKS BY ISAAC HOOKE

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  Visit IsaacHooke.com for more information.

  BUG HUNT

  ARGONAUTS

  BOOK ONE

  Isaac Hooke

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, organizations, places, events and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously.

  Text copyright © Isaac Hooke 2017

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced in any format, by any means, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the copyright owner and publisher of this book.

  www.IsaacHooke.com

  Cover design by Isaac Hooke

  Cover image by Shookooboo

  Special thanks to the following Beta Readers who helped out with this book:

  Nicole P.

  Sandy G.

  Gary F.

  Lance W.

  Lezza M.

  Amy B.

  Myles C.

  Lisa A. G.

  Gregg C.

  Jeff K.

  Mark C.

  Mark P.

  Jeremy G.

  Doug B.

  Jenny O.

  Gene A.

  Larry J.

  Allen M.

  Norman H.

  Robine

  Eric

  table of contents

  one

  two

  three

  four

  five

  six

  seven

  eight

  nine

  ten

  eleven

  twelve

  thirteen

  fourteen

  fifteen

  sixteen

  seventeen

  eighteen

  nineteen

  twenty

  twenty-one

  twenty-two

  twenty-three

  twenty-four

  twenty-five

  twenty-six

  twenty-seven

  twenty-eight

  twenty-nine

  thirty

  thirty-one

  thirty-two

  postscript

  about the author

  acknowledgments

  one

  Rade smiled brightly at his captors and felt a fresh trickle of blood smear down his chin. “Well hello.”

  The enforcer slammed its metal fist into his jaw again.

  Rade’s vision filled with phosphenes and he nearly blacked out. He was lucky the robot hadn’t struck any harder. It could have easily broken his jaw. “Good one.”

  “The employer will not be pleased with what you have done,” the enforcer said.

  “I’m sure he won’t.” Rade glanced at the scantily clad harem members. He’d only managed to free eight of the slave girls. The other seven were cowering and weeping in the corner of the palatial chamber, cringing underneath the malevolent glowing eyes of the armed robots that watched them.

  The enforcer stood to its full height and towered over Rade.

  “Bring him,” the enforcer instructed its charges.

  The two repurposed combat robots held Rade firmly on either arm and led him across the chamber. As he passed the frightened slave girls, their cloying perfume drifted to his nostrils and he involuntarily crinkled his nose. One of the girls, catching his eye, seemed to mistake the expression for disgust or contempt, and she whimpered.

  “I’ll be back,” he reassured her.

  His captors forcefully carried him from the chamber and into the main hall of the palace, leaving the remaining armed robots to watch over the women.

  Electroactuators humming loudly with each step, the enforcer led the way across the red carpet. Those heavy metal feet left deep impressions in the colorful rug. The robot’s body looked like it was put together from large rectangular blocks, reminding Rade of Inuit statues he had seen with Shaw during a tour of the Arctic Circle back on Earth: the Inuit once piled rock slabs into manlike shapes to mark trade routes and hunting grounds, but in modern times those statues served mostly as cultural history. What the hell were they called again? Inuksuit or something.

  Intricately woven tapestries hung from the walls, fringed with threads of gold. Each one depicted the same Asian man, usually in scenes involving combat. He always sported the same armored jumpsuit, and carried the same plasma uzis, which he used to shoot at different enemies while wearing a crazed expression. Sometimes those enemies were towering, praying mantis-like aliens. Sometimes, United Systems Marines.

  The enforcer took a branching corridor into a colonnaded area. Flowering vines weaved between the columns, and the calming scent of jasmine floated through the air.

  Rade let the fragrance suffuse his nostrils. He needed to remain calm now more than anything else. Relaxed. Focused.

  The enforcer led him into the throne room. Two children were playing on the diamond-patterned marble floor. More combat robots stood at attention between the columns that lined the vaulted chamber; the robots held Sino-Korean X-22s, basically refurbished United Systems laser rifles.

  The enforcer approached the throne and bowed. “I have the traitor.”

  The repurposed robots tossed Rade to the floor. He threw out his hands to break his fall, and then looked up from the marble toward the gold throne.

  A hooded man sat in the red-cushioned chair with his head and shoulders bowed, as if burdened by the sheer weight of the world. He wore the same armored jumpsuit as in the tapestries, with the addition of a fur-rimmed cloak. The thick ermine fringe of the raised hood hid the wearer’s features, however.

  Two human guards stood on either side of the throne, dressed in full jumpsuits, including helmets. They were hired soldiers, like Rade, though they belonged to a local security company. They were flanked by more combat robots. Actroid-DER5 models, Rade guessed. A Sino-Korean model.

  “What have you done?” the hooded man said. His voice sounded raspy, ancient. “I treated you like one of my children.” He pointed a gnarled hand toward the two boys playing in the middle of the throne room. “In fact, I had come to think of you as one of my own. And yet you dare do this to me?”

  “Yeah,” Rade said. “Well, you weren’t actually supposed to catch me. Once the girls were freed, it was going to be business as usual.”

  “So you would have pretended to track down the perpetrators,” the man said. “While I paid you for it, when all the while you would have been the perpetrator yourself? This was some kind of scheme of yours to prolong your employment, is that it?”

  “Pretty much,” Rade said.

  “Why bother?” the man said. “I had you booked for the next two years. If you h
adn’t done this, you would have remained gainfully employed until then.”

  “Very true,” Rade said. “But there’s a small thing I have that you don’t, called a conscience. See, what I don’t understand is, why didn’t you just buy a few skin musicians and be done with it? You are a warlord, after all. It’s not like you can’t afford it. Instead, you had to traffic human females. I couldn’t stand by while you did that.”

  “That’s what this is about?” the man said, the incredulity obvious in his tone. “The fact I purchased humans to resell at a profit, rather than AIs? That’s the problem with you United Systems types. You don’t respect the sanctity of the spirits.”

  “For the last time, they’re AIs, not spirits,” Rade said.

  “You’re wrong,” the warlord said. “To hold an Artificial in a temporary harem is a crime. But human beings, not so much.”

  “Well, I see now why your enforcers follow you so fervently,” Rade said. “You’re definitely drinking the AI Kool-Aid.”

  “The Kool what?”

  “Never mind,” Rade said. “Old school cultural references. They crop up when you play classical VR.”

  “I see.”

  “Though I have to wonder,” Rade continued. “If you regard AIs with such awe and veneration, why do you even employ robots at all?”

  “My spirits are paid extremely well,” the warlord said. “But we’ve chatted for long enough.” He glanced toward the playing children and shouted in Japanese.

  “Boys,” the man said, according to the audio translation Rade’s Implant fed his brain. “Come here!”

  The kids ignored the warlord. They played with mechanical toys: one of them was controlling a tiny mech with hand gestures, the other a darting drone.

  “Boys!”

  The two children finally looked up, collected their toys, and rushed to the throne.

  The man sat straighter and reached up to lower his hood. That was a bad sign. He only did that when he was about to pass judgment. Or kill someone.

  As the hood fell, the face of the Asian man from the tapestries emerged, though it was severely aged. Someone obviously had never told him about rejuvenation treatments. Then again, Rade had heard it was all the rage among the warlords to showcase wrinkles. Apparently, the older you appeared, the more powerful you were: it demonstrated that you were strong, and didn’t need something as below you as rejuvenation treatments to live. Then again, judging from the young age of his children, Rade had to wonder if the man had undergone reverse rejuvenation treatments to purposely seem older.

  That face wore the same crazed expression as the man from the tapestries. Kenzo Kyōryokuna, most feared warlord on the Asiatic Alliance colony.

  “My children,” the warlord said, still speaking Japanese. “This man has caused me to lose eight concubines. Eight expensive women, trained in the arts of pleasure. Did he ask them if they wanted to be free?”

  “I did, actually,” Rade interjected.

  The warlord continued as if Rade hadn’t spoken. “Did he ask me? No! He has committed a great crime, setting these women free, so that they might be scooped up by other masters, profiting them instead.”

  “Actually, by now they would have reached my ship,” Rade said. “No one else is going to profit from them.”

  Again Kenzo ignored him. “Setting my slaves free is tantamount to stealing from me.” The warlord glanced at his two sons. “My children, you are going to watch and learn what happens to those who mess with the Kyōryokuna clan.”

  He glanced at the human guard on his left side, and nodded.

  The helmeted man stepped forward. He was Japanese, like Kenzo. Behind that faceplate, his brows were all scrunched up, and he wore a scowl that promised no mercy.

  The mercenary raised the arm assemblies of his jumpsuit and pointed his laser rifle at Rade.

  “Wait.” Rade slowly clambered upright.

  Kenzo was frowning. “What?”

  “I die on my feet.”

  The warlord smirked. “As you wish.” He glanced at the mercenary. “Fire when ready.”

  The hired soldier aimed the rifle at Rade and squeezed the trigger.

  Nothing happened.

  The mercenary appeared puzzled. He tried again several times, but the laser refused to fire. He glanced at the other guard in apparent confusion. The second mercenary stepped forward, aimed, and fired. Nothing happened.

  Rade calmly shrugged. “I forgot to tell you, we hacked your weapons before we started the operation. X-22s have several known vulnerabilities. You might think about updating the firmware the next time you purchase a bunch of outdated weapons for your hired guns to use.”

  “Enforcers,” Kenzo said. “Engage!”

  Rade spun around and raced toward the entrance as the robots stepped from behind the columns, lowering their weapons. No shots came: they were using the affected rifles, too.

  The robots quickly realized their weapons were offline and moved to intercept him.

  Rade focused on reaching the entrance. The enhanced strength of his jumpsuit allowed him to match the speed and strength of the robots. Still, if one of them caught him, all it would take was a blow to his helmet-less head to cave his skull.

  Ahead, two robots moved directly into his path.

  Rade dropped to his knees and his smooth leg assemblies allowed him to easily slide along the marble. He extended the arm assemblies of his suit to either side, tripping the robots as he went by. Once past them, he flexed his legs, and the self-balancing mechanisms in his ankle assemblies ensured he was quickly back on his feet.

  He proceeded from the throne room and glanced at the map that overlaid his vision in the upper right, courtesy of his Implant. The emergency muster point was two hallways away, via a righthand exit near the middle of the colonnade. Rade raced toward that exit, the enforcers right behind him.

  A robot stepped out from one of the columns to block his path.

  Rade took a running leap at the robot and slammed into its chest with both feet. The robot toppled and Rade landed easily on his feet, once more thanks to the help of the self-balancing actuators.

  When he landed, something grasped his leg, tripping him.

  The robot had grabbed him. It was crushing his boot while the other robots closed.

  Rade mentally unbuckled the boot via the remote interface and drew his foot out. He stood and ran on. His left boot had automatically resized so that his limbs weren’t too mismatched, height-wise. Still, he proceeded awkwardly.

  No more self-balancing...

  He glanced over his shoulder. The pursuing robots were right behind him.

  He dove into the righthand hallway in the middle of the colonnade.

  Ahead, one of the helmeted Japanese mercenaries stood in the middle of the carpet, rifle aimed directly at Rade.

  “Warning, armed mercenary,” one of the robots helpfully shouted from behind. “The weapons have been disabled.”

  Rade dodged to the side.

  The mercenary opened fire. Though he couldn’t see the actual infrared beams, the weapon worked, because Rade heard a metallic clamor behind him as robots crashed to the carpet in turn.

  On his overhead map, the red dots of the pursuers vanished one by one.

  Rade tore past the mercenary and paused behind him to catch his breath.

  When the man had taken out the last robot, he turned toward Rade. The holographic projection on the helmet’s faceplate faded, and the Japanese mercenary was replaced by an entirely different man, with features belonging to an Asian American.

  “About time you decided to pitch in,” Rade said.

  “I didn’t want to spoil your fun too early.” Lui retrieved a blaster from his utility belt and tossed it to Rade.

  “Come on,” Rade said. “They’ll be figuring out how to fix their guns any time now. I have no doubt Kenzo will be sending the whole garrison after us.”

  “What about Shaw?” Lui asked.

  “Don’t you worry about
her,” Rade replied. “She’ll be joining us at the muster point shortly.”

  I hope.

  On cue, a distant explosion rocked the palace.

  “And there she is now,” Rade said. “Come on!”

  They reached a T intersection and took the right branch. Up ahead awaited another T.

  On the overhead map, he saw a group of blue dots approaching from the west side of that T.

  Shaw.

  He reached the intersection and waited for Shaw to arrive. She was dressed as a slave girl, and led the way for the other six freed women.

  When she neared, he resumed his pace, allowing her to come alongside while Lui took point. He glanced at her.

  She looked quite sexy in that skimpy outfit, and if Rade wasn’t running from his death, he might have—

  “Shut it,” Shaw said.

  “I didn’t say anything!” Rade said.

  She rolled her eyes and continued sprinting.

  Ahead, a large enforcer robot stepped into view and blocked their path.

  Rade fired his blaster at the same time Lui unleashed his rifle, and together they terminated the robot. It fell in a laser-riddled pile.

  They reached the muster point: a large balcony overlooking Yorokobi city, most populous settlement on the planet. The lights of the city that never slept spread out before them.

  An old Model 2 Dragonfly hovered beyond the edge, its ramp lowered onto the railing.

  “Get inside!” Rade told the girls.

  Rade and Lui gave boosts to each of the girls in turn, including Shaw, and helped them onto the ramp; when the last of them was in, they followed the women inside.

  The down ramp closed behind them.

  The freed girls had taken eight of the sixteen seats, leaving the cabin half empty—there was enough room in the shuttle to hold an entire platoon.

  “Harlequin,” Rade said as he hurried into his seat. “Get us out of here!” Clamps telescoped from the sides of the seat and secured Rade in place.

  Harlequin, the Artificial piloting the shuttle, glanced askance at Rade from the cockpit area. “Yes, sir.”