City of Phants (Argonauts Book 6)

by Isaac Hooke

  “We have to assume the Greens already have eyes and ears here,” Rade said. “So I doubt it would matter either way.”

  In the hangar bay Rade went directly to his assigned locker. He changed out of his fatigues, and grabbed the single-piece cooling and ventilation undergarment. He stretched the fabric until the holes matched up with the hardpoints protruding from his joints, and finally finished donning the piece. Next he grabbed the different suit assemblies and began pulling them on. The EM emitter built into the torso assembly would protect him from any Phants; not that it was needed for the current mission. At least not yet.

  When he applied the helmet, Rade left the faceplate open. Since the inner atmosphere hadn’t changed, the suit didn’t inject an accelerant. Still, he instinctively braced himself for the usual pain in the dorsal venous region of his right hand, and when it didn’t come, he relaxed.

  Rade reached for the jetpack.

  “Station rules prohibit jetpacks,” Lui announced. “I checked the boarding policy. They’ll confiscate the packs if we try to carry them aboard.”

  Rade straightened and shut his locker. “Leave your jetpacks behind.”

  He glanced at Bender and Manic. They had suited up without any scuffles. That was a good sign. The sparring match sessions were paying off. Also, Rade had told them only this morning that he wanted them to set a good example for his children. Bender had protested that the children weren’t old enough for “no examples,” but apparently the words had made a difference. Rade was succeeding with the two of them.

  All of a sudden Manic yelped, and hopped around like a crazy man, trying to remove his helmet.

  Bender erupted in chortles. “You scream like such a little bitch!”

  Finally Manic removed the helmet. On his head was a garter snake.

  Manic shoved the snake off his head with his glove, and stomped down on it several times.

  “Did you have to go and kill it?” Bender said. “I was growing kind of attached to the thing.”

  “Bender, where did you get that?” Rade asked crossly. “And how did you sneak it past the biological contagion scan?”

  Bender stiffened slightly. “I might have done some temporary reprogramming to the biological contagion scan.”

  “Where did you get it?” Rade pressed.

  “Bought the little sucker at the last station we stopped at,” Bender said.

  “That was weeks ago,” Fret said incredulously.

  “I know,” Bender said. “I had to feed it a steady diet of dead flies during the trip, which I also purchased with the snake. I was saving the little critter up, waiting for just the right moment to introduce it to Manic. And then the moment comes, and here he goes and kills it.”

  “You don’t really seem all that upset,” Fret said.

  “No, ‘spose not,” Bender said. “At least I don’t have to worry about feeding it no more. Now I just got a bunch of dead flies I have to figure out what to do with. Though I have some ideas.” He flashed Manic that golden grille of his.

  “Your pay is docked five hundred credits for the month,” Rade said.

  “Pissers,” Bender said. “That puts me in the negative for the month again.”

  Rade shrugged. “Learn to behave yourself on board. What if that snake had gotten loose? What if it disturbed the kids?”

  “It’s just a garter snake,” Bender said. “Couldn’t harm anyone.”

  “Really?” Lui said. “Looks like a big choking hazard to me.”

  Bender gave him an exasperated expression. “Like a baby is going to swallow that.”

  “Hey, you never know,” Lui said.

  “I think Manic should get his pay docked by five hundred credits, too,” Bender said. “For killing my pet. Or at the very least, paying me back for what he did.”

  “Seeing as I specifically ordered no pets aboard,” Rade said. “I see no reason to compensate you.”

  Bender shrugged. “It was still worth it. I got Manic’s face and his bitch cries recorded on my Implant. I plan to watch it every day for the next ten years. Hell, I think I’m going to upload it to MyCrazyVids so the galaxy can see. I should get at least a couple million views. Enough to make back the five hundred credits I lost, and the price of the snake to boot. So totally worth it.”

  Rade waved a dismissive hand and approached the hangar bay armory. He was about to select a weapon when Lui spoke.

  “Like jetpacks, the station officials won’t let us carry any weapons aboard,” Lui explained. “I checked the protocol. It’s not that kind of free port.”

  Rade nodded, forsaking the weapon.

  When everyone was suited up, Rade left the hangar bay and proceeded through the cramped passageways toward the Airlock 3C. He passed another weapons locker on the way, and hesitated.

  “Just one.” Rade reached into the locker and retrieved a blaster, hiding it behind his harness.

  “You’ll never sneak that through,” Lui said. “You bring that aboard, you’re essentially throwing the weapon out.”

  “I’ll take the risk,” Rade said. “And I’ll dock it from my own pay if it’s confiscated.”

  “I thought you didn’t take a salary?” Manic said.

  “I don’t,” Rade said. “But it’ll still hit me in the pocket. I’m hopeful they won’t notice if only one of us carries a weapon.”

  “Fat chance...” Fret said.

  “Only one of us? Eff that.” Bender grabbed a blaster for himself. He stuffed it under his harness like Rade. He also grabbed a grenade.

  “If you lose those—” Rade began.

  “Yeah yeah,” Bender grumbled. “It’ll be docked from my already negative pay.”

  Suited up, Surus was already waiting beside the airlock. Like the others, she had no weapons. Two combat robots were with her: Algorithm and Brat. They had suited up like the humans.

  Harlequin, Ernie and Formaldehyde were crowded in behind, waiting to see off the party.

  “Good luck, boss,” Harlequin said.

  “Thank you,” Rade said. “But luck has nothing to do with our success or failure. All we need is right here.” He touched the heart region of his chest piece.

  “Atmosphere is stable on the other side,” Bax announced. “Do you want me to regulate the entrance anyway?” That meant opening and closing the airlocks as the crew moved inside in turn, to prevent the station’s atmosphere from mixing with the Argonaut’s atmosphere.

  “No,” Rade said. “I don’t think that’s necessary. Open it up. Algorithm, you’re on point.”

  five

  Both the inner and outer hatches of the airlock opened, revealing the entry tube beyond. Rade and the others entered in single file. Rade felt no change in gravity as he stepped from the Argonaut and into the tube. The tight, cylindrical walls enveloped him. Blue light bars spanned the bulkheads on either side, while white HLEDs provided general illumination above.

  Algorithm led the way, crossing the fifty meters to the far side, where the tube widened into an alcove that allowed the party members to crowd mostly inside. On the far side, in front of another hatch, stood two station security officers: inukshuk-shaped Enforcer robots made of rectangular metal blocks welded together at sharp angles.

  One of the Enforcers raised a black, steel hand. “Halt! Give me your weapons.”

  “We left them aboard?” Rade tried.

  “Give me your weapons,” the robot repeated.

  With a sigh, Rade reached underneath his harness and retrieved the blaster. The Enforcer snatched it away and passed it to the other robot, which promptly deposited it in a steel bin. Rade heard a sucking sound, and the weapon vanished from view.

  “Uh, I think the robot just flushed your blaster down the toilet,” Lui said.

  “Figures,” Rade said.

  The Enforcer turned toward Bender and held out a hand. “Yours, as well.”

  “I ain’t got no weapons,” Bender said.

  The robot didn’t move.

  A text
message from Bender appeared in the lower right of Rade’s vision.

  I’ll show y’all how this is done.

  “Yo, you deaf, bitch?” Bender told the enforcer. “I said, ain’t got no goddamn weapons!”

  The robot didn’t move.

  He glanced at his comrades. “I don’t know why this robot won’t get out of my way.” He patted himself down. “Look. Nothing on me.”

  There was a blur of motion and dual pistols abruptly appeared in each hand of both Enforcers. All four weapons were aimed at Bender.

  “Whoa whoa!” Bender said. “Here!” He reached under his harness and produced the blaster.

  The closest Enforcer flicked its wrist, and its own weapon vanished inside a sliding panel in its arm. It grabbed Bender’s blaster and tossed it into the bin, and the weapon disappeared as the familiar suction sound emanated from the device.

  “The grenade as well,” the Enforcer said.

  Bender mumbled something under his breath as he surrendered the frag, and the robot chucked it into the bin as well.

  The pistols vanished within the arm panels of the two Enforcers, and they stepped to either side of the hatch. “You may pass.”

  The door spread into three triangular sections that rapidly parted from the middle, opening in three separate directions.

  “Algorithm, proceed,” Rade ordered.

  Algorithm led the way through the rectangular opening and into the main concourse of the station.

  When everyone was inside, the hatch closed behind them.

  Manic abruptly laughed. “Show us how it’s done, huh? You’re at what, negative fifteen hundred now for the month?”

  Bender shrugged. “Like I said before, I ain’t doing this for the money.”

  “That’s right, you’re doing it for the pussy,” Manic said. “Oh wait, look, you can’t buy any more, because you have no money!”

  “Ah, shut your lips,” Bender said.

  “Okay Pussywillow.”

  The party was on the flight concourse at the moment, which consisted of a large hallway running along the outer rim of the station; on the right-hand side, it was lined with successive hatches that led to the different docked ships, and on the left-hand portion, directly across from the party, were different duty free shops, restaurants, and flesh parlors.

  Colorful augmented reality signage intruded on Rade’s Implant; scantily clad dancers competed with roaring pink elephants and dancing rainbows for his attention. He promptly shut down the remote interface and the station became much more muted. He preferred the drab appearance to the sensory overload of the signage.

  “We have to take the escalators to the twelfth floor,” Surus said. “Where one ‘Sphinx Storage’ resides.”

  “Sphinx Storage?” TJ said. “They copied the name of our bridge.”

  Algorithm led them through the hallway to the escalator, and up to the next floor, and then the next. Each successive level was wider than the last, with more floor space, and contained an even greater number of shops and restaurants than the previous, along with some company offices. There were a surprising number of passersby, mostly traders and their mercenary retinue. There were white-robed Saudis with heads wrapped in checkered keffiyehs. Dakotas in their dark blazers and white, open-collared dress shirts. Omanis in their purple thawbs and elaborately-designed mussah caps. Sino-Koreans in their simple shirts and slacks, often wearing kouzhao masks with fancy designs, or simple surgical masks to filter out the “bad” air breathed by foreigners. The escorts of each party were just as varied, and were usually composed of either unarmed combat robots, or tough-looking Russian or Sino-Korean mercenaries, often dressed in camos. The whole place was essentially a melting pot of cultures from those residing in neighboring systems.

  Despite Lui’s worry about standing out, the different men and women didn’t bother to spare Rade and his party a second glance. There was even one other group that chose to pass through the station in jumpsuits, and they did so with their visors closed, unlike Rade’s group. Probably Sino-Koreans who preferred their own private air supply to kouzhao masks.

  “Look at these shops,” Bender said. He pointed out an ethnic place labeled H’Anabelas Mauf. “Anyone want to eat at Anabelle’s Muff?” And then he indicated an adjacent cafe: Chapa Awp Ma’aas. “Or how about at Chop Up My Ass?”

  “We’ll let you eat there,” Manic said.

  Finally the party reached level twelve, and made their way to a nondescript shop with a simple sign above that read “Sphinx Storage.” Rade had no doubt it looked far fancier on the augmented reality display, but he had no intention of reactivating his remote interface.

  Inside, the compartment was little more than a rectangular alcove. There were no obvious exits to the storage units.

  A greeter robot stood near the entrance. Its body was white and egg-shaped, with two thin, spindly arms emerging from either side. Red, green and blue lights embedded underneath the shell illuminated the oversized features of a nose, mouth, eyes and brows, giving the impression of a vaguely human face projected onto the surface.

  “Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall,” Bender told the robot.

  The greeter glanced at Bender, and appeared confused for a moment. Then it launched into its spiel.

  “Hello, and welcome to Sphinx Storage,” the greeter robot said in a high-pitched voice, the digital representation of its two large lips moving up and down. “Where we store everything you don’t need between voyages. Have to make room for your latest cargo purchase, yet no one wants to buy your current haul? Need to store some Suramantine while you wait for its price to go up again? Transfer your load into our facilities! If you can think it, we can store it! How can I help you today?”

  “I’d like to transfer my load into your facilities!” Bender said excitedly. “Just point out where I should drop my pants and squat!” Bender mimicked the robot’s high-pitched voice: “Welcome to the Sphincter Storage, where we store your shit! Literally!”

  The greeter stared at Bender, its digital brows furrowing in confusion.

  Surus stepped forward, drawing its attention. “I am here to collect my belongings.” She handed the robot a 3D-printed access card.

  The egg-shaped robot bowed, then returned the card. It beckoned with one of its spindly arms toward the far side of the alcove. A previously unseen hatch, blending in perfectly with the wall, began to open, revealing a passageway beyond.

  “Nice,” TJ said.

  “Let’s go,” Rade said. “Algorithm?”

  The party crossed the alcove and entered the passageway.

  Bender gave the greeter robot a kick in the midsection as he passed, and it toppled over. “Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.”

  The corridor curved, spiraling upward around a central axis. Garage-like security doors were set at intervals into either of the flanking walls.

  “Kind of a low-tech storage facility, isn’t it?” TJ said. “You actually have to walk to the unit you want. The one I stored my stuff with back on Earth uses these big robot arms to bring the storage unit down to you. All you do is enter a designated retrieval vault, call up your unit, enter the passcode, and it’s yours.”

  “The problem with that is, what do you do when there are multiple clients occupying the available retrieval vaults?” Tahoe said over the comm from the Argonaut’s bridge.

  “Then you have to wait, obviously,” TJ said.

  “My point exactly,” Tahoe said. “Sometimes low-tech solutions are better. There’s no waiting in a facility like this.”

  “No,” TJ said. “But there is a lot of walking.”

  “A lot?” Manic said. “How big can this place be? It’s not like they have all that much room in this station.”

  “According to the station blueprints,” Harlequin said over the comm. “It is relatively small. Only four levels, to be precise.”

  After climbing three floors in relation to the rest of the station—according to the overhead map—Surus halted in front of
one of the security doors.

  “I’m not getting an access interface,” Surus said. She retrieved the 3D-printed access card and held it toward the unit. “That did it.”

  The door slowly rotated upward.

  “Surus, get back,” Rade said. “I want Algorithm in front.”

  She prudently switched positions with the combat robot as the door revolved aside.

  six

  Rade stared at the inside of the storage unit. It was about as big as a Dragonfly’s cabin. Two Centurions stood guard near the entrance. They had somehow sneaked blasters past station security, weapons they currently pointed at Algorithm. The latter combat robot slowly raised its hands. Rade and the others behind it followed suit.

  On the floor beyond the Centurions was a wide metal disk that almost touched the walls. It was engraved with Fibonacci spirals, and set upon a square polycarbonate dais of some kind.

  The Acceptor.

  “The little bitch did it,” Bender commented.

  Past the Acceptor, a large metal cabinet had been placed against the far wall. Beside it, a golden robot owl squatted on top of a perch. The owl’s head was down, its mechanical eyelids closed.

  But those eyes popped open as Rade watched, and the robot blinked a few times before raising its head.

  “Sweet master!” Noctua said.

  The two guard Centurions lowered their blasters immediately.

  Noctua flapped its metal wings with the speed of a hummingbird, and buzzed across the storage compartment, flying past the robots and over the Argonauts to land on the shoulder of Surus’ jumpsuit. The little owl bent over and thrust its head inside the open faceplate to repeatedly peck Surus on the cheek, as if kissing her.

  Surus had to raise a hand to fend off the robot owl. “It’s good to see you, too, Noctua.”

  “It is, master, it is!” Noctua said, settling onto Surus’ shoulder. “I missed you so!”

  “How come none of you bitches ever calls me master?” Bender said. “Fret, you’re my bitch. Call me master.”

  Fret flicked him the bird. “Do some sit ups on this, master.”