Prime Deceptions

by Valerie Valdes

  Eva hesitated to call it “action,” given the glacial speed at which everyone seemed to be moving inside the event itself. It was more like small groups of people forming and dissolving and re-forming as individuals drifted around, carrying drinks or bites of food catering to their particular biologies. The decorations were elegant, a combination of elaborate carvings similar to the ones back at the hotel where Eva and crew had been staying, plants whose root systems were carefully wound around and through translucent hydroponic devices while their tiny fragrant flowers perfumed the air, and light fixtures mimicking the traditional ones despite containing what were clearly robotic reproductions.

  Probably with their own surveillance devices, Eva thought. Pervasive and sneaky. The place was also crawling with Watchers—well, not crawling, since they all held positions around the roof, and were standing unnervingly still. Even their Attuned were quiet; they might as well have been robots, too. Maybe they were? Eva couldn’t tell the difference between the animals and the Pod Pals at a distance.

  ((Pink?)) Vakar pinged at her.

  ((Not yet,)) Eva replied, checking the chronometer on her commlink. If anyone were monitoring her comms somehow, the exchange would hopefully be vague enough to be meaningless.

  Assuming all went according to plan, Pink would soon be in position in a hovering transport on the cables of a nearby building, along with Jei and Nara. Sue had outfitted Pink’s sniper rifle with a device that would let her tag people at the party from a distance, the same way Sue had tagged Jei during their bot fight back on Abelgard. Eva could then use one of her commlink overlays to isolate the frequency and find that person more easily among the crowd.

  Certainly it wouldn’t be simple for Eva to do it on the ground, as she had suspected. Even with her gravboots on, she was shorter than most of the other guests, and vastly smaller than the xana. Vakar was taller, thankfully, so between him and Pink she was hoping they’d be able to do what needed to be done.

  At least Pink had let her keep the gravboots, after they’d figured out the jumpsuit would cover them. Pink still griped about the shape being wrong, and Regina had griped about not being allowed to buy Eva appropriate shoes—“Tacones, mija, dios mío, I raised you better than this”—but Eva had stayed firm. Bad enough she couldn’t bring any weapons besides her sonic knuckles, which were tastefully hidden underneath gloves the color of her skin, made from materials that shouldn’t show up on any sensors normally used for that purpose. She’d also managed to work the towline from her spacesuit into something that resembled a belt, which could function as a garrote in an emergency. Pink had griped about that, too, but she’d acknowledged that utility outweighed fashion in some cases.

  Vakar had scrounged up his own formalwear, a layered white suit similar to the ones the xana wore, complete with silvery harness. He wouldn’t tell her where or how he got it, just kept saying, “I have my ways” and smelling smugly of lavender. He looked better than she felt, though the way he had practically reeked of licorice and kept nuzzling her with his palps on the ride over suggested he thought she looked fine.

  Now he smelled like vanilla and rosewater with a dollop of mint, which Eva hoped would come across as standard party nerves to anyone with scent translators. Or to the other quennians present, of which there were at least two, neither of whom Vakar recognized and both of whom he fully intended to question at some point during the event. He had already reported some suspicions on the Pod Pals to his superiors, and they hadn’t mentioned anything about quennians being among Sylfe Company’s backers, so either they didn’t know or they had known and didn’t tell him.

  Both were uncomfortable notions, but that was parties as far as Eva was concerned. A few hours of being uncomfortable until someone got drunk enough to start causing problems. Usually her, until recently.

  But if they caused any trouble here, Vakar could be in for a universe of shit from his bosses on top of whatever else might happen to them, so Eva had to be extra cool. Find the marks, chat them up, move on. Easy, smooth, quiet.

  Her nerves were wound tighter than the wire around her hips, despite the calm, steady flow of blood through her mechanical heart.

  Around her shoulders, Mala had settled like a furry scarf. Eva had argued with her about staying with Min and the others, but since half the argument had been “Miau” over and over, it had ended in a stalemate. Mala had managed to get into the transport when it arrived to pick them up, and at that point there was no sense leaving her to the whims of a bunch of Watchers, so to the party she came.

  More stubborn than Eva, the fool animal.

  Eva patted her head where it itched, because of course she would itch where she couldn’t scratch. Her hair was tucked into the tight-fitting skullcap that came with the jumpsuit, a few tendrils already escaping to brush against her forehead despite how carefully Pink had arranged them. Worse, every time she shifted, the huge hoop earrings her mother had given her knocked against her face, making her think she was being constantly attacked by insects. She was about ready to tear them off and fling them into the nearby ocean.

  Then Vakar wrapped an arm around her waist, and Eva pressed into him and tried to pretend for a moment that they were just random people at a fancy party, enjoying the low-key chatter and psychic emanations. As if they would ever be invited to a place like this; a grubby cargo-ship captain and a Wraith, mingling with rich elites excited to sprinkle some of their money on the newest idea seed to see what would grow.

  This wasn’t how their lives went. Their stories were violent ones, front to back, with no happy end in sight. In the distance, the local star continued its slow progress toward the other side of the planet, slipping silently below the waves as the sky purpled like a bruise.

  “So far, this is superior to our previous experience at a similar venue,” Vakar said quietly.

  Eva snorted. “I’m still wearing something ridiculous.”

  “I will be sure to remove it quickly later.”

  Eva bumped him with her hip. “Panadero, watch where you put those claws.” She sighed. “The last time I was here, I was about a hundred kilometers away and kitted out in full tactical gear. It was a lot less pretty. Less peaceful.”

  “It is a different form of activity,” Vakar agreed. “But the others here are not gathered in the interests of peace. This is a form of economic entanglement that in many ways works against notions of tranquility and prosperity, leaving aside the questionable features of the technology itself.”

  “At least they’re not shooting anyone or setting them on fire,” Eva said.

  “Perhaps not. But their choices may lead to similar outcomes, ultimately.” His gray-blue eyes met hers and she looked away.

  “I’ve made a lot of shitty choices,” Eva murmured. “Being here is a constant reminder of the worst of them.”

  “I have regrets as well,” Vakar said. “While I am not sorry for joining your crew, I did so as a means of escaping from obligations I perceived as anathema to my own desires. I was ashamed to admit this to my family or my commanding officers, and in my cowardice I fled.” His grip on her hip tightened slightly, reflexively.

  “Some people would say it took guts to leave instead of staying and doing something you didn’t want to,” Eva said.

  Vakar made a rumbling noise, the equivalent of a sigh. “It was fear, primarily. Fear of the responsibility that came with the power granted by my potential position. Fear of making an incorrect choice and being made to live with the consequences of my actions. You helped me overcome that fear, albeit unintentionally.”

  Eva shifted to look up at him again. “I did what now?”

  He smelled embarrassed, but also more strongly of licorice than before. “You gave me a reason to embrace that power and shoulder that responsibility. Without it, I had no hope that you would be returned to me. With it, I had the chance to find the people who had taken you, to find you. And now I can try to ensure no one else suffers in the same way.”

 
His connections had been a huge part of why they’d been able to go after The Fridge as aggressively as they had, instead of running off to the fringes of the universe to hide and struggle as a cargo-delivery and passenger operation. But it also meant a life of near-constant danger, for them and the rest of the crew. They were all doing it intentionally, sure, but that didn’t make it easier.

  It also didn’t excuse anything she’d done before she and Pink struck out on their own. It didn’t excuse Garilia.

  “Yeah, well, look what I did with my choices,” Eva muttered. “This place is one big commwall ad for the consequences of my fuck-ups.”

  “And now you are choosing to do better.” Vakar squeezed her hip gently. “It is as you said: you cannot undo what has been done, but you can work to atone.”

  Eva scowled. “I said that? Doesn’t sound like me.”

  “That is because you often speak before fully considering the ramifications of your words, and so you are unable to recall them at a later point. Even when they are insightful.” His scent told her he was teasing, but she elbowed him anyway, and Mala made a soft chirrup of indignation at the motion.

  A robot floated past with a tray of food, pausing when Eva stuck her arm in front of it so she could grab a handful of hors d’oeuvres. These were like little bread pillows filled with sauce, served hot enough to scald the roof of her mouth. She loved them immediately.

  As much as she wanted to continue flirting and philosophizing and eating, they had a mission to accomplish. A quick mental command turned on the visualization that would let her see the tag Pink was shooting at her targets. At first, nothing showed up, which either meant that Pink hadn’t been able to find anyone yet, or that Eva was facing the wrong direction.

  Before she could continue, a psychic emanation echoed like someone tapping a microphone, relayed by multiple xana standing in different places. Mala growled low in her throat, her body stiffening and her claws digging into Eva’s shoulders. A white-garbed form drifted down from a higher tier to stand at the top of a fake tree, like a platform with a podium made entirely of intertwined branches and broad leaves. Lights were redirected to focus on the figure: Lashra Damaal, in all her awful glory. Her pale fur gleamed as if lit from inside, her dark eyes huge and inscrutable. Her pale-gold harness twinkled as the light caught it—made from interwoven wires of some kind, or chain links, fancy and expensive.

  Some people are always more equal than others, Eva thought.

  A hush fell over the crowd, who were all focused on the Prime as if she were a religious figure descended from the heavens to gift them with her wisdom. Eva glanced sidelong at a few of the Watchers, and perhaps unsurprisingly, they weren’t so drawn in by the theatrics. They were still observing the guests, silently, unmoving, like statues that might come to life at any moment to deliver swift justice to anyone who stepped out of line.

  “Honored guests,” Damaal said, her quiet voice amplified by invisible tech. “Your presence here in celebration of our unprecedented achievements signifies that you possessed the wisdom and foresight to invest in technology that will alter the lives of nearly every being in the universe.” Her psychic tone radiated earnest goodwill and optimism, with an intense layer of sheer power and authority that made Eva’s skin itch.

  No one clapped, or snorted in derision, or whispered a snide comment at the level of ass-kissing happening from the podium. Eva was surprised; usually rich people were constantly teetering on the verge of snark. Maybe they were overwhelmed by the vibes Damaal was putting out. Or they really were that far up their own asses.

  Mala’s tail whipped back and forth. She certainly harbored no such illusions about the greatness of anyone here, except maybe herself.

  “Garilia’s recent history has been one of turmoil and insecurity,” Damaal continued. “Upon joining the collective of sentient species and discovering the boundlessness that awaited us beyond the borders of our own planet, we fell into greed and hostility, at odds with our selfless natures. But through the bravery of our people and their allies, we have overcome this adversity and emerged stronger, more resilient, and eager to continue our growth as we lead at the forefront of advancement for all star systems and their creatures.”

  Pretentious, given how recently the planet had joined up with the rest of the universe, but everyone there seemed to be eating that shit with a spoon. It wasn’t as if robots weren’t pervasive already; what made these designs special? That they looked like cute animals? That they could transform? That they fit in impossibly small containers?

  Maybe that was it; the folks here were expecting to be able to reverse-engineer the tech for themselves, or that no one else would be able to do it, so they’d be rolling in credits for having something no one else could reproduce. Eva had only peripherally been aware of industrial espionage as a problem because of her dad, who had dabbled in it himself on occasion. It could be huge money, but it was also a galaxy of lawsuits waiting to happen, especially since Garilia was still under BOFA protection.

  Of course, that must be part of it. Anyone who stole from Garilia would be subject to a slew of harsh punishments because Garilia was still integrating into the universe-wide federation. To avoid colonization or exploitation of resources—or at least the appearance of either—there were strict protections in place for fledgling star systems. Crooks from outside might still sneak in and cause problems, but if they got caught, they were in serious trouble.

  And that meant any tech from Garilia, if it were special enough, would be worth a fortune. The combination of novelty and scarcity would be like catnip to people with the disposable income to snag it before it was being sold more widely.

  Damaal was still talking, mostly fluff and flattery until finally she said, “And now, we hope you will humor us with a brief demonstration of the latest model. We call it—”

  Eva’s translators supplied “Firespeaker” after a brief stutter; probably had to process a quick update since the xana language was still an ongoing translation project. Brand and product names were always a fun problem.

  At first nothing seemed to happen, but then a shadow passed overhead, difficult to spot as it was a dark orange that nearly blended into the sunset sky. It moved like a large bird, gliding more than flying—antigrav tech, maybe? But as it looped around and dove toward the roof, it became more visible, its form like a todyk or a dragon out of Earth’s old fiction. Just as it came close enough to buzz the crowd, it roared and shot a gout of flame from its long snout, the heat so intense it made the skin on Eva’s face tighten.

  Mala hissed, her fur bristling against the sliver of Eva’s exposed neck.

  A collective “ooh” and similar appreciative noises went up from the audience as the robot landed on the floor below Damaal. It was a little taller than Eva, given where its head landed compared to the Watcher standing next to it, but its wings spread out twice as far, its fake skin the color of the impending twilight. It didn’t move, simply waited for its next command impassively.

  “This model, like the others, is based on one of our Attuned,” Damaal said, emanating pride. “It is comparable to a fully grown specimen, with all its inherent abilities as well as the expected upgrades. But as promised, the Firespeaker can do what the Attuned cannot.”

  The robot briefly glowed a purplish-pink color that was eerily familiar to Eva. With a sound like a series of strange whooshes and quiet pings, it shrank in on itself, losing at least a half meter in height, the wings disappearing entirely and the head becoming more rounded. It was an impossible transformation; something as big as its prior form shouldn’t have been able to change like this, into something so much smaller, and yet here it was. And the whole thing would eventually be able to fit into a capsule she could hold in one hand, which was even more unbelievable.

  Eva thought of the pieces of glittering metal and polymer spread across the table in her mother’s temporary residence, and wondered.

  “All of the Pod Pals can shift back and forth between t
he various growth stages of the Attuned, as desired by those who possess them,” Damaal said. “Each stage is capable of all its natural abilities, and as our engineers continue their diligent and genius work, we expect to release advanced technologies in the future to implement additional upgrades.”

  Probably for an extra fee, Eva thought. That was where this shit got people; all the microtransactions and add-ons.

  The robot glowed again and shifted once more with the same mechanical whooshing sound, and now it was a small creature, like a smooth todyk baby. It made an adorable “cha” sound, then with another flash of pink, it vanished into the capsule Damaal held in her claw.

  “We thank you for your presence and your continued support,” Damaal said. “It is our fond hope that you will join us for a more robust demonstration of the capabilities of our technology, at the Grand Tournament to be held in two cycles. At the conclusion of the ritual Attuned combat, we will host a special battle between a team of Attuned and our own Pod Pals, for your viewing pleasure.”

  Eva raised an eyebrow. Robots versus regular animals? That didn’t sound very fair, though if they were supposed to have the same abilities, maybe it wouldn’t be too unbalanced. Still, she’d never been a fan of cockfighting in any incarnation, whatever their temporary tour guide Krachi had insisted about it being done humanely.

  With any luck, they’d have Josh by then, and Garilia would be eating their plutonium exhaust as they made a run for the nearest Gate.

  Damaal’s psychic tone ramped up even as she began to disengage. “We are honored to be the harbingers of a new era of peace and prosperity for all members of the Benevolent Organization of Federated Astrostates and beyond. May the Light embrace you all as it has embraced us, and may you carry it with you to distant stars. Until the Light touches all things.”