On the other hand, blowing things up was a lot of fun.
Behind the captain, Quartermaster Calico held Princess Katherine, her hands in restraints. Beside her, Lady Sophia stood without being bound, her eyes squarely on the captain.
“Destroying the ship wasn’t in the plan,” she said.
“No survivors means no witnesses,” the captain replied. “We are kidnapping the emperor’s daughter after all.”
“Please don’t hurt me!” Katherine pleaded, her eyes full of tears.
Blixx raised an eyebrow. “No harm will come to you, my dear.”
Katherine’s gaze widened and then sharpened into a scowl.
“In that case,” she said with a sniffle, “what the hell do you think you’re doing?
“Take the princess to her quarters,” Blixx said.
“Aye, Captain,” Calico said, saluting and pulling at Katherine’s arm.
“How dare you touch me!” she protested.
“Come along,” Calico said. “Come along.”
“Captain,” the first mate said, “The Victoria is firing her thrusters.”
“So?” he replied confidently. “They can’t outrun us!”
“She’s on a collision course!”
The captain grabbed the back of the first mate’s chair. “What?”
On the main view screen, the heavily damaged yacht, trailing debris behind it, came toward the Hotspur at full speed.
“Kamikaze bastards!” Blixx shouted. “Evasive maneuvers!”
The helmsman fumbled with the controls.
“Hurry, man!”
The thrusters of the Hotspur burst to life, pushing the ship sideways and down. Instinctively, Blixx hunched as the Victoria on the view screen grew enormous, passing in front and then over the pirate ship.
Blixx laughed, standing back up. “Idiots! You’ll have to do better than that!”
“Sir,” the first mate said, “the Victoria is heading into the Glitter Fields.”
“Well, shit!” the captain said.
Lady Sophia, who had remained on the bridge after Katherine was led away, crossed her arms and cocked her head.
“What’s the matter now?” she asked.
“Our sensors are useless in the particle cloud,” the captain replied. “We won’t get a lock to fire our weapons.”
“Does that mean they’ve gotten away?”
“Aye, so it does.”
Sophia grinned, watching the yacht become a speck against the cascading colors of the Glitter Fields.
Chapter Fifteen
At the Eudora Prime starport, automated tractors moved cargo containers laboriously from the freight warehouse to the awaiting starships sitting on the concrete apron. Like a line of gypsy wagons, the vessels sat silently in the darkening twilight. At the far end of the line, a lone freighter rested on its landing struts like an old man squatting in the shadows. Its hull, 75 yards long, was gray except for a few sections painted a cheerful yellow. Above the nose cone where the word Wanderer was stenciled, a wedge shape wrapped in windows protruded to form the cockpit. Inside, Captain Rowan Ramus perched his feet on the console, the rest of him slumped in the pilot’s chair.
A Dahl, Ramus had dark red hair and gold rings hanging from his pointed ears. Tattoos forming archaic lettering ran down both arms, signifying someone educated in the art of Dark Psi, knowledge forbidden by Dahl society.
Behind the captain, a hatch opened and Orkney Fugg peered in with his boar-like snout.
“Brooding?” Fugg asked.
“Nope,” Ramus replied.
“Yeah, right, you sorry sack—”
“Did you install that new component?”
“Damn right I did!” Fugg said triumphantly. “We can take off now and probably not explode.”
“Probably?”
Fugg shrugged his shoulders. “I’ll give it a ninety-five percent chance.”
“Ninety-five?”
“Engineering isn’t an exact science,” Fugg replied.
“Actually,” Ramus said, “by definition I believe it is.”
The ship’s intercom chirped and Gen’s robotic voice spoke, “Master Ramus, sir, there’s an incoming message from a Miss Freck and a Mister Davidson.”
“Okay,” Ramus said. “I got it.”
The captain straightened, dragging his feet off the console. He tapped the controls and a hologram, in a hazy blue, appeared where his feet had been. The faces of Mel Freck and Randall Davidson looked at him as if their heads floated in midair.
“Hello, Captain!” Mel said.
“Hey, Mel,” Ramus replied.
“Did you get the stabilizer patched in?” Mel asked.
“Allegedly,” the captain replied.
Fugg scowled at Ramus and then at the holo. “What the hell do you want, Mel?”
“I missed you.”
“Really?” Fugg asked.
“No.”
Davidson spoke up, “I have a proposition for you, Captain Ramus.”
“Okay,” Ramus said. “What do you have in mind?”
“We need to buy passage.”
“We don’t normally take passengers...” Ramus trailed off.
“I understand,” Davidson said, “but we’ll pay well for it.”
“Sounds good to me,” Fugg murmured.
“What’s the destination?” Ramus asked, shooting a glance at his engineer.
Davidson paused. “The Cyber Collective.”
Ramus laughed. “I don’t think so.”
“Hear him out!” Mel urged. “It’s really important.”
“I bet,” Ramus smiled, “but crossing into Cyber territory is a death sentence.”
“No shit,” Fugg said. “We’d never make it past their sentry ships.”
Mel, holding up a small box with loose wires hanging from the bottom, said, “I modified a transponder to broadcast their identification codes. They won’t know we’re not one of them until we’ve landed.”
Now it was Fugg’s turn to laugh. “That’ll never work, tink!”
“Not if I shove it up your ass!” Mel shouted.
“Settle down,” Ramus warned them both. “How much are you paying?”
“Twenty thousand,” Davidson said.
“Fifty thousand,” the captain replied.
“Thirty.”
“Forty or forget it,” Ramus made his final offer.
“Alright,” Davidson nodded with a note of pain in his eyes. “It’s worth it.”
“When do you want to leave?” Ramus asked.
“As soon as possible.”
“In that case,” the captain said, “we’ll see you in the morning.”
Ramus killed the connection and the two holograms faded away.
“It’s a shit sandwich any way you slice it,” Fugg said.
“We need the money” Ramus replied.
“Where are we going to put them?”
“There’s that extra stateroom Gen’s been using...”
“Why does Gen have a stateroom?” Fugg grumbled.
“We weren’t using it so why not?”
Fugg was incredulous. “Because she’s a robot! We should stick her in the closet with the brooms!”
“We don’t have a broom closet.”
“Then we should have her build one and then stand in it until she’s needed!”
“Just go help her move, will you?”
Fugg mumbled obscure obscenities as he stormed from the cockpit and climbed the ladder to the deck below. He stomped down a passageway, the metal grate beneath his boots straining with each footfall. Pipes and cables were hung along the ceiling, interspersed with reinforced bulkheads at set intervals. Fugg rambled past them, gaining momentum as the avionics room, galley, and crew cabins went by. Once he got to the auxiliary stateroom, he didn’t bother knocking before palming the door sensor and barging into Gen’s quarters.
“Get your crap out of here!” he barked. “Captain’s orders!”
Gen, s
itting with her back to the door, didn’t hear him. A wire was plugged into the side of her head.
For the most part, this extra cabin had been used for storage, but once Gen came aboard, she claimed the small space as her own. There was a bed in one corner — unused since robots don’t need sleep — and a footlocker against the wall. In between, a desk that could fold neatly against the bulkhead was currently in the down position. Gen sat at the desk, tapping her metal foot, oblivious to everything else.
Fugg briskly marched across the floor and yanked the wire from Gen’s cranium.
“What are you doing?” Fugg said. “I’m talking to you!”
“Oh, dear!” Gen said. “I was listening to my music.”
“Music? Why the hell would you do that?”
“There’s several bands that cater to robotic tastes, Master Fugg.”
Fugg forgot his original irritation and tilted his head to one side. “Are you telling me there’s robot bands out there?”
“Most definitely,” Gen affirmed. “Cyber music is freely broadcast across the node sphere.”
“What does it sound like?” Fugg asked, now curious.
“Unfortunately, the songs are modulated to frequencies inaudible to most humanoids.”
“And you get these from the node sphere?”
“Yes, Master Fugg. Robots use it to transmit data just like people do, although at a higher bit rate.”
“I’ll be damned.”
“Oh, I hope not!” Gen said.
Fugg suddenly remembered why he had come in. “Anyway, the Captain wants you to pack up your things. We’re taking on passengers and need the room.”
“Those people who called earlier?”
“Yeah, you’ll meet them when they get here.”
In the morning, a ramp lowered from the belly of the Wanderer as Mel, Davidson, and the robot Jericho waited patiently outside on the apron.
“Do you need help with your bags?” Captain Ramus shouted down from the ship.
“No, we’re fine,” Davidson said as he and Jericho took their suitcases up the sharp incline. Packing light, Mel followed with just a canvas rucksack hanging loosely from her shoulder.
Once on board, the captain suggested Davidson accompany him to the cockpit while Mel and Fugg went to the avionics bay to install the transponder. Meanwhile, Gen and Jericho would take the baggage to the stateroom.
When Ramus and Davidson reached the Wanderer’s meager bridge, the captain sat in his customary chair and Davidson settled into the co-pilot’s seat.
“You’re taking an enormous risk crossing into Collective space,” Ramus said.
“And now so are you...” Davidson smiled wryly.
“At least I’m getting paid. I still haven’t figured out why you’re doing it.”
“You’ve heard of the Robot Freedom League, I assume?” Davidson asked.
Ramus nodded. “They steal people’s robots and call it liberation.”
Davidson chuckled. “Not exactly.”
“You work for them I take it?”
“I’m responsible for smuggling freed robots across the border to the Cyber Collective. Lately, however, they’ve barred us from sending androids with higher brain functions.”
“By whom?”
“The Collective is governed by a central AI called the Omnintelligence.”
“Some kind of hive mind?”
“Not exactly,” Davidson shook his head. “Essentially, the Omnintelligence draws computing power from all the robots living in the Collective, but each robot retains its individual personality.”
“So, this OI suddenly started restricting which robots they’d accept?”
“It would seem so.”
“Your robot — Jericho, is it? — does he fall under that category?” Ramus asked.
“Yes, but I wouldn’t call him my robot. He’s no more mine than I’m yours.”
“Whatever,” Ramus waved his hand. “It doesn’t sound like you’ll be welcomed with open arms once we get there.”
“Jericho knows someone there who can protect us.”
“Well, if Mel’s gadget doesn’t work, we’ll likely be stardust before we ever meet him.”
One deck below the cockpit, Fugg and Mel argued in the avionics bay. Standing over the transponder, Mel unscrewed the top of the device to double check the circuit board inside.
“You’ve convinced Ramus this’ll work, but he’s no engineer,” Fugg said.
“And you are?”
Fugg snorted. “I’m the best damn engineer you’ll ever see!”
“If I was blind...”
Fugg ground his teeth. “For such a little person, you’re a big pain in my ass.”
“That’s pretty big, fat-ass.”
If Orkney Fugg had hair, he would have pulled it out in tufts. Instead, he rubbed the greasy skin on his bald head. “How do you even know the right broadcast codes?”
Satisfied with what she saw, Mel closed the transponder and began fastening the screws. “Last month, Davidson rendezvoused with a Cyber Collective transport so they could take some robots over the border. I just took the telemetry from that.”
“They could’ve changed the codes by now.”
“Maybe,” Mel admitted, “but that’s just a chance we’ll have to take.”
“Bullshit!”
Mel shrugged. “Engineering isn’t an exact science.”
Fugg started to speak, clenched his mouth shut, and sternly pointed his finger at her and her device without saying a word.
“Eloquent as always,” Mel remarked.
She took the transponder and swapped it with the component already installed in the Wanderer’s avionics suite. Once done, she gave herself a grudging smile and a quick nod.
“Listen, Mel,” Fugg said, “we’ve been friends a long time—”
“We’ve never been friends.”
“—but flying into Collective space is bat-shit crazy. Why are you doing this?”
Mel paused and looked genuinely stumped at the question. “I don’t know.”
“There’s gotta be a reason,” Fugg went on. “Is the RFL paying you?”
“No.”
“Do you have the hots for this Davidson guy?”
“Screw you!” Mel burst out.
“Oh, crap,” Fugg said. “That’s it, isn’t it?”
Mel turned away, her tiny frame stiff with rage.
“But he’s a filthy human!” Fugg said. “They’ve ravaged half the galaxy and enslaved the rest. How could you want a guy like that?”
“He doesn’t talk to me like the others. He doesn’t treat me like a subhuman or a xeno...”
“I’ve never met a human who didn’t think he was superior to every other race,” Fugg said. “That’s their nature.”
“Not him.”
“He’d be the first then.”
Mel cleared her throat and turned to face the engineer. “He needs me so I’m helping him.”
Hesitating only to complete a thought, Fugg said, “How could you even bump uglies with him? He’s like three feet taller than you—”
“Shut up, you fat bastard!” Mel shouted and left the room.
Gen and Jericho set the bags onto the floor of her former stateroom. Mel’s rucksack was among the luggage.
“Will Miss Freck stay in the cabin as well?” Gen asked.
“Why do you ask?” Jericho replied. His voice was low and monotone, but not without a sense of humanity unlike most of the robots Gen had heard speak.
“It’s my understanding,” Gen explained, “that male and female organics don’t usually share the same living space unless they’re in a relationship.”
“Are you asking if Mel and Davidson are a couple?”
“I’m never sure how to approach such topics,” Gen confessed. “I find organic interaction confusing.”
Jericho nodded. “I understand. Their relationship is especially complicated.”
“Really?”
“Mi
ster Davidson has spoken about Miss Freck on several occasions. He’s concerned that Mel has feelings for him that he doesn’t reciprocate.”
“What kind of feelings?”
“There’s a biological tendency of living beings to develop an emotional attachment called love.”
“Ah yes,” Gen said. “It’s featured in their literature, although it seems like a terrible burden. I don’t understand why they don’t have it removed.”
Jericho smiled. “Emotions don’t work that way, I’m afraid. I must admit that I’m eager to experience it myself.”
“Is that possible?”
“Davidson assures me that I can feel anything a human can.”
“That’s amazing!” Gen remarked. “It’s a shame that I’m unable to feel such things.”
“Who says you can’t?”
Gen studied Jericho’s face skeptically. “Master Fugg would suggest you’re pulling my leg, although he’d use different words. He’s really quite proficient with profanity.”
“I assure you I’m perfectly serious.”
“You’re an advanced android, but I’m just a general purpose robot. I don’t think I can feel the same things you can.”
Jericho took a step toward Gen and then another. He stretched out his arms and, with both hands, took her hands in his. He peered into her mechanical eyes.
Gen attempted to pull away. “This seems inappropriate.”
“Just relax and look at me,” Jericho said. “What do you see?”
“You?”
“I mean, specifically.”
“I can see your eyes,” she went on. “They’re azure blue, hex triplet value 007FFF. Also... deep.”
“Anything else?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Not really.”
“Do you feel a sense of confusion?” Jericho asked.
“Most of the time,” Gen admitted.
“Is that all you feel?”
“I’m not sure, Master Jericho.”
“Don’t call me that,” Jericho lightly scolded her. “Nobody’s your master, not unless you make him one.”
Gen felt her mouth smile without asking it to. She changed it to a frown and plucked her hands out of Jericho’s. “Well, that’s very... interesting, but I have other duties to attend to.”
Imperium Chronicles Box Set Page 15
