by C. Gockel
“I am,” Gate 5 said in the cleaning ‘bot’s body.
“Wait, what?” 6T9 asked. “You just—”
Pinching a piece of rubbish, Gate 5 continued, “I am worried about the argument between Commander Ko and Police Chief Strom. The situation.”
At Gate 5’s words, 6T9 heard Ko roar from behind the barricade, “Absolutely not, Miss Strom!”
“That’s Chief Strom to you!” snapped Angela Strom, Chief of the local police.
All of 6T9’s circuits fired. They’d met her in the heat of the mob rush hours before. The Luddecceans thought that the front lines were “no place for a lady,” and Ko had suggested that she call her superior and let “him” take over. 6T9’s diplomatic maneuvers were probably the only reason Ko hadn’t been shot on the spot. He bolted in their direction, hearing Chief Strom insist vehemently, “I should talk to her!”
Still out of sight, Ko responded, “Just what we need, two women potentially in the line of fire!”
Nebulas, did Luddecceans have no sense of self-preservation?
6
Luddeccean Self-Preservation
Luddeccea: New Prime
In Silas’s library, the overhead fan whirred softly. Sitting in one of the high-backed chairs, Alexis wore a dress with a loose top and billowing skirt, capped sleeves, and a barely fitted waist. It was made of the thinnest silk that could still be considered decent. She had taken a shower not long ago and had piled her hair into a knot on top of her head without drying it. She’d hoped the fan’s breeze, the light dress, and her hair’s dampness would help her stay cool, but the oppressive heat was inescapable.
All three of her boys were napping, as was Silas. Even Silas’s new weere assistant was napping. From where Alexis sat, she could see him outside, sitting back against a tree, eyes closed, clawed hands laced on his stomach. The sounds of insects and pterys was subdued—as though the summer heat was affecting them, too.
It was just past two in the afternoon, the hottest time of day and summer. It was not the time or season for visitors. Still, Ambassador Starcrest of the Galactican Embassy sat across from her. He was dressed in a suit of a fabric that shimmered slightly. It climbed all the way to his chin and passed his wrists and ankles. Nonetheless, he looked cool and composed; there wasn’t even a sheen of sweat on his brow.
She sipped her tea—hot, no milk. “Hot drinks cooled on hot days” was the Luddeccean philosophy. The ambassador was drinking xinfruit punch on ice.
“Anyway,” he said. “I must say, as impressive as it has been, and as lovely as the zaiadas blooming right now are, the weather has proven quite the challenge for our thermoregulatory clothing. I wonder how your Luddeccean clothing manages it.”
Ah, that explained his composure. She fought to keep her annoyance from showing.
“We don’t have thermoregulating clothing,” Alexis replied. He’d bored her with talk of the weather, New Prime’s zaiada flowers, and other meaningless chit-chat since he’d arrived nearly a half-hour ago.
“Ah,” he replied, sipping his punch and glancing around the room. “You have quite a collection of books here.”
When would he get to the point? He’d requested this urgent meeting. Merta, the maid, normally took a nap at this time. Alexis didn’t need her help passing out with heat exhaustion. Alexis had wanted to meet in the morning, but this was the time when Alaric’s cousin, Sebastian, was normally her guard. Sebastian stood behind her now, fully armed, eyes on her guest. He’d given her a pistol and a holster that was hidden beneath her skirts before the meeting. “Please, ma’am, I know Alaric—I mean the captain—wanted you to have it.”
She sighed and gave up. “Why are you here, Ambassador?” The irritation in her voice was so plain she swore she could feel the hair at the nape of her neck curl.
At her frank order, he had the decency to look bashful. “I need your help.”
Alexis set her teacup on a saucer with too much force. She’d championed allowing weere women to go to the Republic, and half of her church were no longer speaking to her for it. Some of the men were angry, and their wives feared their ire if they acknowledged her. Some of the congregation simply disapproved of a young mother stepping into politics. When Alaric, hero that he was, had been by her side, whatever reservations they held, they’d stifled—one useful thing about having him around. She scowled. That thought was bitter, and not right. Before he’d left, they’d almost been … friends, and it had been … good. But then something had happened during the last goodbye. He’d looked so disappointed in her, and she wasn’t sure why, or what she’d done. She’d searched her memory time and again, and there had been nothing wrong in her behavior. Maybe she’d imagined it?
The ambassador cleared his throat, and she looked up.
“Because of your help, we have permission to take weere off world.”
She stared at him, too hot to speak.
Tugging at his collar, he exhaled. “However, we’ve been warned we must not be obvious.”
Alexis’s lips pursed. Everyone knew that the Galacticans were going to take weere prostitutes off world. Weere were the most reliable detectors of the Dark’s presence—more reliable than any Galactic gizmo. Allowing undesirable weere to leave Luddeccea was in Luddeccea’s self-interest. If the Republic fell, Luddeccea was lost. But it was not a popular decision. Of course the council had pushed for discretion.
He dropped his hand. “We thought we might just host a public event … we have permission to host a collection that is ‘technologically appropriate’—”
Alexis translated: something that didn’t highlight how technologically far behind Luddeccea was compared to the Republic.
“—miniature train replicas from Earth. Everything from the steam age to magna-train lines.”
Alexis’s eyes widened. Her boys would love that.
“The weere would come to the exhibit and climb aboard our transport instead of leaving with the rest.” He nervously ran a hand through his hair. “However, with events in the Republic right now—”
A chill crept up Alexis’s spine. What was happening in the Republic? Was it why Alaric had been called away so suddenly? She swallowed and tried to tamp down a rising sense of dread. If the Republic had called in Luddeccea to help, that would be—momentous. Surely, she’d know about that. Wouldn’t she?
The ambassador finished, “—we have no way of reliably knowing when we will have transport. It is difficult for us to get permission to have local visitors. We’ll need to have our recruits stay on the premises for extended periods of time. Firstly, because we need to begin training as soon as possible, but secondly because we need them to be ready to be shuttled off at a moment’s notice.”
So, he needed them to reside at the embassy. Alexis stared at him, dumbfounded. His neural port glinted at the side of his head. The neural device gave him the intelligence of a machine—he could calculate immense sums in his head almost instantly and could access encyclopedias’ worth of information just as quickly. And yet, he was an idiot.
Merta, the weere maid, entered the library, tea pot in one hand, pitcher of ice juice in the other. “Sir, ma’am, would you like a refill?”
“Yes, please,” said Starcrest, raising his glass.
“Thank you, yes,” Alexis said, holding out her cup.
As Merta went about her task, Alexis tilted her head, studying the Galactican, waiting for him to see the obvious solution. The weere maid finished and left the room.
Alexis crossed her legs. Waiting…
“Anyway.” He ran a hand nervously through his hair again. “We need advice. We want to achieve this as diplomatically as possible. We don’t want to upset the local authorities.”
Alexis smirked. “Any more than you already have?” And dragging her into it, too.
“Ahh …” the ambassador flushed.
She was ready for this interview to be done. “The solution is simple, Ambassador.”
He leaned forward.
Lifting her cup to her lips, she blew on her tea. “Hire them as staff.”
“But your authorities know with our technology, we don’t need—”
Narrowing her eyes at him over her cup, she took a sip.
“But this is about appearances, isn’t it?” he guessed.
She raised her cup in his direction. The man was dense, but not impenetrable. How terrible at diplomacy these machine-men were!
7
Mechanical Diplomats
Galactic Republic: Time Gate 5
6T9 dashed around a security ‘bot just in time to see Chief Strom take a step toward Commander Ko. She was only slightly shorter than Ko, but her bulky armor made her nearly as broad. Dipping her chin, she struck a gloved index finger at his sternum. “I. Have. Augments. I am stronger than you are.” She tapped him, and he staggered back half a step. Stunners came out, but Ko held up one hand toward his team and used the other to knock Strom’s hand from the air. “You’ve been awake for over twenty-four hours.”
Strom narrowed her eyes. “I’m fine.” Curling tendrils of dark hair were stuck to her forehead, and she vainly attempted to blow them away.
Stepping between them, 6T9 pushed them gently apart, Q-comm sparking. “What are you really fighting about?”
Clang-clang, the Infected assault punctuated his question.
Ko’s helmet crackled, and 6T9 heard Davies speaking over the radio. “Ms. McCollugh is still demanding to speak to Strom in person, sir.” Ko pointed at his ear and scowled at 6T9.
“I told you,” Strom sighed, shoulders sagging. “Virginia McCollugh is leader of the Neighborhood Association. She needs to see us working together—”
Clang-clang-clang.
Closing her eyes, Strom waved her hand toward the massive doors. “—and to hear that.”
Ko glared and pointed at the door. “That is why a lady shouldn’t be here.”
Strom lunged against 6T9’s hand. She hadn’t been lying about her strength.
Glaring at her, Ko leaned in on the other side. Not as strong, not as heavy, but just as determined.
Giving them both a hard shove, 6T9 said, “We need the populace’s goodwill, Ko.”
Ko glared at 6T9.
Clang-clang.
Ko’s gaze shifted to the doors. He rolled his eyes, but replied to Davies, “Bring Mrs. McCollugh to the barricade.” Strom and Ko both backed off, and 6T9 turned to the too-close upward curving horizon. The thoroughfare was designed for freight, was wide as a two-lane highway, and nearly four stories tall. The protestors had broken lights, and there were deep patches of shadow. CLOSED signs hung in the windows of shuttered shops. Cleaning ‘bots swept up glass and hosed down the floors and walls. Usually, such places had chemical signatures of food, metal, and rubber, but right now the highway smelled like beer, blood, and urine. At the upside-down horizon, five pairs of feet appeared, and then knees, and then Davies, Falade, Lang, the weere, and a woman in handcuffs who must be Virginia McCollugh.
“Jam her, Time Gate 5,” 6T9 said aloud.
“Done,” Time Gate 5 replied.
Strom gasped and turned to 6T9. “Virginia would never use her ether for an IED. She’s a friend.”
Before 6T9 could respond, Virginia shouted, “You’ve joined the enemy, Angela!”
Strom’s shoulders fell. Raising her hands, she replied, “The Luddecceans are not the enemy, Virginia. They’re helping us maintain the quarantine. They’re protecting us.”
Clang! Clang! Clang!
More static fizzled beneath 6T9’s skin, but Virginia didn’t question the banging from the other side of the airlock. “Protecting us? You’ve locked my son in there with people you claim are infected with some strange virus. Protecting him would mean taking him to a hospital.”
6T9 might have reminded her that it was a bacterium, but his circuits dimmed further. There were—or had been—uninfected on the other side of the quarantine. Time Gate 5 and Strom’s small police force hadn’t had the manpower or enough rapid tests to separate the Infected from the uninfected. If the uninfected were resourceful, they might be hiding. The bacterium was heavy and didn’t travel far in dry air. Even a nook with an imperfect seal would be safe. But if they were brave, they might be rebelling—and increasing their risk of exposure. If Volka was on the other side of that door, she’d rebel. If Volka was on the other side of that door, would 6T9 try to find his way in? It would not be logical to do so. He swallowed.
Clang-clang-clang.
Virginia continued to ignore the sound, but Lang’s yellow eyes with their ovoid pupils slid toward it. The weere’s face contorted as though he’d smelled something rank, even though his visor was down, and it was impossible that he had smelled anything at all. He might be truly wave sensitive, like Volka.
Virginia’s face crumpled. “I don’t believe there is a virus.”
Gesturing at everything and nothing, Strom said, “There is a battle raging just outside the gate. Our system was invaded. Our home has been invaded.”
Pointing at the Luddecceans, Virginia retorted, “These are the invaders. They’ll enslave us. They’ll rip out our ports. They’ll take away our augments. We’ll die, just like people did on their homeworld.”
All the Luddecceans drew themselves up. Ko’s nostrils flared. “Luddecceans are not Godless savages! We would never do that.”
Except they had, just over a century ago, just as Virginia had described. Did Ko not know? Lang, the weere, tilted his head and regarded Virginia. How wave sensitive was he? Was he the only Luddeccean who suspected the woman was telling the truth?
“That was over a hundred years ago—” Strom began.
“It was never!” Ko insisted. 6T9 pressed his hand to the man’s chest again and shook his head.
“—and they’re here now!” Virginia protested.
Putting her hands on Virginia’s shoulders, Strom said, “Have you talked to your son, Virginia?”
Virginia’s lips got pinched.
“Because I’ve talked to my mother,” Strom continued, her pitch rising. “She’s on the other side of that door.”
Everyone’s attention snapped to her.
Clang-clang-clang-clang the assault on the airlock echoed through the gate.
Strom continued, “She’s over there, Virginia … or someone who looks like her but isn’t. She promised to infect us—to infect me—or kill me. My mother, Virginia. Do you understand? There is something behind those doors. I will not let it take over the rest of the gate. I won’t!”
6T9 felt as though Time Gate 5 was rotating faster, as though the centrifugal force pushing him into the deck had increased. Once he thought he was more moral than humans, but Strom was making the sort of sacrifice he wasn’t sure he could manage.
All but sobbing, Virginia shouted, “You’re crazy. You’ll never work in this system after this, I’ll make sure of it!” She spat at Strom, hitting her face shield.
Ko growled, “Take her to the brig.”
Wiping the spittle away with a clunky glove, Strom said in an inflectionless voice, “Brig’s full.”
6T9 reached out into the ether and found what he was looking for. “Put her under house arrest. I’m sending a lock ‘bot. It will make sure she can’t get out.”
“My people know where she lives,” Strom said. There were police officers standing with their backs against the airlock doors, and she waved them over. Strom must have connected with them over the ether because they didn’t ask questions, they just pushed Virginia around and back toward the horizon.
Clang-clang-clang.
Looking over her shoulder, Virginia shouted over the echoing battering ram, “You’ll pay for this!”
6T9’s eyes went to the police chief. Staring at the spit on her fingers, Strom said, “She’s very influential. I’d hoped that she could talk some sense into the others.”
The Luddecceans said nothing, nor did they move.
6T9 remembered Darmadi with Volka’s head against his shoulder
as she wept. There was something that should be said and done here. His fingers twitched. His sex ‘bot programming urged him to touch Strom. He didn’t move.
Head jerking up, Strom said to everyone and no one, “I’m fine.”
Ko frowned. “I wouldn’t be.” He waved at Davies and his men. “Take the police officers’ places at the wall.”
Davies and his men passed through the barricade, and 6T9’s ethernet began to ping with an Unidentified Caller.
“It’s Washissh, a member of The One!” the little ‘bot that was Time Gate 5 said, and then in a tone of deep respect added, “—also known as Butterball.”
A frantic voice erupted in 6T9’s mind. “I have a message from Carl Sagan!”
“What?” 6T9 blurted.
Butterball continued. “He and Volka are with Darmadi—”
6T9’s processors whirred with all the ways Volka and Darmadi could be together. His hands balled into fists. Before he could self-combust, Butterball’s thoughts tumbled into his mind at breakneck speed. “They have just found something dangerous to your mission on the public ethernet … a holostar is broadcasting the movement of Fleet warships in System 5. They will be—”
There was a gentle thrum, and a speaker hummed to life in the walls. A breezy woman’s voice said, “Citizens of Gate 5, this is your mayor—”
“Rat dung,” Butterball cursed.
Clang.
6T9’s brow furrowed. He hadn’t met the mayor. His circuits went dark with apprehension.
Her voice continued over the speaker. “We have good news. Fleet is sending warships. They will be arriving in hours.”
Strom smiled. “Sounds like you boys will be able to head home.”
A thought sparked from 6T9’s Q-comm that chilled his synth blood. “Gate 5,” 6T9 asked aloud. “Was that heard on the other side of the quarantine?”
Gate 5 responded from another cleaning ‘bot. “I have ethernet jammers aimed at the quarantined areas—”