Bixby had never seen the inside of the Straddling Skunk, let alone its permanent courtroom, but he understood its appeal to some. There was something for everyone here if you were looking for trouble. Something about the failsafe against violence emboldened people to push their rivals to the absolute brink.
The further you ventured from Earth, the deeper you fell under the corporate umbrella of laws. Laws written by the legislatures of Earth, Luna, Europa, and Titan meant less and less the further you went. Laws stood still at the Skunk. Instead, there were…understandings in place.
But even neutrality could be gamed. All one had to do was anger a target into taking a swing and security would drag him to extreme punishment. The Skunk had a rare private license to use deadly force when it saw fit—and judgment was final. Not even the Court of Corporate Arbiters could interfere.
Bixby had been shuttled out from Venture Lab by a corporate escort vessel, joined by Ellen from Smeiser’s directorship. The asteroid hosting the courtroom stood roughly between Laramy and Smeiser space and enjoyed a seemingly permanent, universally enforced neutral status—it was a place to try diplomacy if violence failed.
The Skunk’s diverse value propositions included private meeting spaces, temporary quarters, work centers with shunt lines, hangars for ship repairs and of course the main bar for eating, drinking, and dealing in black market goods. The other spaces were multi-use, but the courtroom was a permanent fixture with certified arbitrators on constant rotation—cases were heard around the clock.
Cass said, “Laramy alleges Smeiser stole intellectual property to interface headsets with human brains, non-invasively. Is this correct?”
Ellen stepped forward from Smeiser’s lineup, ramrod straight back, exuding supreme confidence. From the other column, a youthful, round man stepped forward, clumsily working his way through the queue. He was animated, but his ho-hum posture indicated a lesser education than Ellen’s. He spoke first. “I am Tanner Grosse of Laramy Orbital. We confirm—”
Cass said, “Excuse me, Mister Tanner. You mean to say you speak for Laramy in this case?”
“Yes. Laramy confirms that—”
Cass said, “Mister Tanner. How old are you?”
Tanner blinked, his expression empty. “Sir, I’m not sure how that’s relevant.”
“I deem it important, Mister Tanner—”
“Sir, my name is Tanner Grosse. My last name is Grosse—” An older gentleman from the back of Laramy’s line trotted up to whisper in Tanner’s ear.
Cass frowned and said, “Mister Grosse then. I asked you a question. This is an arbitration where I will rule with a binding decision. The stakes are beyond your—”
Tanner said something abrupt to the Laramy man before putting the mic right up against his own lips. “Arbiter Cass Edgewise. I am Tanner Grosse, chief representative of Laramy Orbital at these proceedings.” His back seemed to straighten. “While you seem to have a problem with my age, I assure you I am both qualified and the highest ranking Laramy representative in this sector.”
Cass stood up, matched Tanner’s proximity to his own mic and said, “I said call me Casey. I could rule against you for contempt—”
Tanner said, “Okay, Cass. You need to sit down and shut up. I am the direct representative of Constantin Laramy. Check your backgrounders.” At the mention of Constantin, the arbiter sat down and contained his fury. “If you had done your homework you would understand that.”
Others in Smeiser’s line grew visibly panicked. They shuffled uncomfortably, arguing with each other just under the range of Bixby’s hearing. Strangely, he caught Ellen’s continuing smile. Then he remembered, I told Ellen I’d cut her in. Pander. How had he pulled it off? It wouldn’t matter what was said from here on—Laramy would win.
Cass said, “Yes. About that. Does Laramy concur with the allegations as they have been laid out?”
Tanner nodded. “Yes.”
Cass turned to Ellen and said, “I assume Smeiser disagrees.”
Ellen said, “Yes, we disagree, but it hasn’t been made clear what Laramy is asking for.” She appeared to glare at Tanner.
“Well, the stakes are high. It says here—” Cass bumbled with his screens.
Tanner said, “You won’t need to look. I have an update directly from Constantin Laramy. Forget the Intrinsic. We are suing for the patent, the technology, the prototypes, and the scientist.”
Cass went pale. “You—you’re suing for the scientist? How do you mean?”
“We will settle our case when Smeiser turns over the scientist. Otherwise, we are prepared to invoke the fair use of force under the corporate articles of war.”
Chapter 10: Concerned
Bixby paced among the ship-sized objects Smeiser kept in its Hall of Artifacts. The whole contingent attending the first arbitration hearing had shuttled back to Smeiser HQ. His flight to Venture Lab was scheduled for the next morning.
Niner followed him like a puppy. There was everything ranging from decommissioned fighter craft to asteroid core samples here. Each item was kept behind an air-tight material resembling plexiglass.
The artifacts on display connoted museum exhibits of the past, but these were the keys to Smeiser’s future. The untapped knowledge in the artifacts outstripped what was known, and the further one walked into the hall, the higher the required clearance to interact with the artifact.
Bixby carried the highest research clearance possible. Might his inventions be shown here one day? Not if that Tanner fellow at the hearing got his way. He meant to acquire Bixby’s prototypes, the rights to exploit the patents behind them, and apparently Bixby himself.
How many times can one person be sold or dealt for corporate agendas?
Bixby knew his excuses wouldn’t resonate with Laramy Orbital—they would insist on an implant. Laramy had a reputation for that. If Smeiser capitulated in its negotiations to settle, everything would be gone—his technical throne, Venture Lab, even Niner.
Laramy Orbital wouldn’t be as willing to be fooled by technical jargon and obfuscation—enough of their managers rose on technical excellence in contrast to Smeiser’s tradition of lineage. They would uncover his main project—that just wouldn’t do.
The hearing at the Skunk had adjourned with questions of process, but there was no doubt which corporation would win. Negotiations would only parcel out the assets to be transferred—not prevent the transactions altogether. Something had to be done.
Bixby not only had to conceal his secrets from Smeiser now; he had to conceal them from a new overlord at Laramy he hadn’t met. He knew nothing of their internal procedures.
Bixby squatted and spoke to the droid. “Look, Niner. There’s going to be a change. I don’t know when it will come, but there’s no stopping it.” He hung his head for a moment, remembering…
The droid said, “Inquiry: what change is Bixby referring to?”
“We probably won’t work together anymore.” He made up his mind to focus on Niner instead of the headset until he was certain she would be safe. “I didn’t make you like the others. You’re the first.”
“First what?”
“When they brought you to me, you were injured beyond…repair. They couldn’t help you. You were going to die, so they turned you over to me.”
The droid began whirling in a slow circle.
Bixby stood up, folding his arms. “You remember, don’t you?”
“Niner remembers.”
Bixby said more to himself than to the droid, “Of course you do. Nobody could forget that kind of pain.”
The droid stopped whirling, wheeled away and then back to Bixby. Niner sounded…confused when she said, “I remember,” in her original human voice. He drew back. Bixby had not programmed her to sound like that.
“How did you?—”
“Bixby, I remember you. They told me you were my last chance. Smeiser Labs offered me experimental treatments because I was an advanced case. They said the only hope was to try…to
try—”
Bixby said, “Transference.”
Then her voice was gone. Had he imagined it? He looked around to make sure nobody overheard. Niner spoke as an automaton again, “Niner does not remember.” But he knew she did. He suppressed his memories of working on her and kept walking past the infinity of artifacts.
They arrived. Behind the glass stood a black, solid-iron mass resembling a giant capsule—a twenty-foot iron pill the width of his lab’s kitchen. His orientation guides had listed it as an early prototype manufactured by Laramy Orbital—they didn’t really know what it was.
They had found it afloat in a remote region of space. That was all the available information. Of all the displays in the Hall, this was the least understood—but Bixby knew what it was. They aren’t paying attention.
There was no apparent door on the artifact, but Bixby knew there was a way in. If there wasn’t—
He said to the droid, “I’ll protect you from all of them.” He entered his access code on the panel and tethered Niner’s uplink wire to the console.
Bixby got to work, regretting any additional damage the procedure would inflict on her mind.
Chapter 11: Suspected
Ellen inspected the finely finished crystal of her glass. The wine they were sharing was a heritage vintage from Earth, from before either of them were born.
Pander said, “Do you think he suspects?”
Ellen said, “That we’re monitoring him?” She ate the last canape as the servers brought another serving to them. “Certainly. He’d be the wrong candidate if he didn’t.”
“Then what do we do?”
“Nothing in the meantime. He’s taken an interest in that pill of iron we found. Have you kept him on track with the fighter project?”
Pander squirmed. “I’ve kept him honest about his progress, yes.”
“And that is?”
Pander went for the wine, but Ellen stayed his hand. He said, “That is—I’ve kept him on track. He’s heading into a test phase.”
Ellen took the bottle for herself, pouring the rest of it into her own glass. “You have no idea, do you?”
Pander resigned himself to fresh canapes and an empty glass. “He said he was ready to test something, but he wouldn’t be specific. I checked in with our…officers—”
“You may say, spies. It’s no secret to me.”
“Our spies. They said he’s been spending an inordinate amount of time with that droid. He has a name for it.”
“Yes, I know.” Ellen could sense Pander’s discomfort with the subject. “And I know you held it over his head to make a deal.”
Pander said, “I—I’m not sure I—”
“Pander. Let me show you something.” Two servers stood at attention nearby. She motioned them to leave.
When they were gone, Ellen put a small projection device on the table where the wine bottle was. It projected a fuzzy image of a medical room. There was a patient on the bed and a figure attending to her nearest the camera so that only the person’s shoulders were in the frame of projection.
The figure said, “What’s your name?”
“Ninnever.”
“That’s an unusual name.”
“You don’t like it? It’s uncommon, even on the moon.”
“I meant I quite like it.” The figure stepped into the frame.
Pander said, “That’s Bixby. When was this taken?”
Ellen paused the projection and said, “His first year. We had him working on patients.”
Pander said, “But wasn’t he acquired to work on special transportation?”
Ellen said, “Yes. The patient was injected with experimental nanobots to modify her internal structure. We made her more resistant to radiation and slowed down her aging as much as possible. She’s seventeen in the recording, but she was only aging at half speed, so she looks much younger.”
“You were preparing her for sublight travel? But resistance to radiation is only one step. You would have to entirely change her genetic—”
“Pander. You’re in operations for a reason now. You’ve always had the chops for R&D, but never the vision to lead.” She could see he was visibly agitated. “Now watch.” She started the projection again.
First-year Bixby said, “You’re my first assignment, but don’t worry. You’re in good hands. I’m very capable.”
“Why don’t I like the sound of that? How old are you?”
“I could ask you the same, but I have a chart. I’m fifteen and smarter than anyone you’ve ever met.”
“And modest I see. Well, I suppose there are worse things than putting my life in the hands of a fifteen-year-old narcissist.”
“Do you have other options?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Then shall I proceed?”
The recording fuzzed out and back in. Ellen said, “This is a week later.”
Ninnever said, “It’s bad isn’t it?”
Bixby said, “I won’t lie. I’m looking into what I can do.”
Ellen said, “This is two weeks. By this time, he’s working exclusively on her case. Look closely.” The camera angle changed.
Pander said, “She has a tremor. I can see it.”
Ninnever said, “Bixby, I’m going to die, aren’t I? I feel like I’m going to die.”
“I’m working on something.”
“It wouldn’t hurt to tell me, you know. Who will I tell? I’ll be dead soon.”
“That’s not funny, Niner. It’s not perfect, but I have something that might work.”
“What, a cure?”
Ellen paused the projection and looked over her shoulder to ensure the servers had closed the doors on their way out. She couldn’t trust anyone at Smeiser HQ with the rest of the recording. “This is four weeks later.” She hit play.
Ninnever was in a constant state of quivers and spasms. Her speech was impaired. She struggled but managed to say, “Bixby, you don’t need to try anymore. It’s pointless. Let me die.”
“You won’t need to. I’ve finished it.” The image wasn’t clear, but Bixby appeared to hit some kind of remote control. The droid they recognized as Niner rolled in. “I’m going to induce sleep now, but you will wake up. I promise.”
Ellen paused the recording again. “What he did next wasn’t authorized. It took us by surprise, but the results indicate infinite possibilities—more than Smeiser Spaceworks can handle, unfortunately. I’ve spent an entire career here just to see that my talents will be wasted when we have something that really matters.”
Pander said, “What did he do next?”
Ellen leaned forward and said, “That shall remain between you, me and Constantin Laramy. Just be a good boy and assure Bixby I still don’t know about Niner. When the time comes, I’ll need you to make sure the droid comes with us to Laramy Orbital.”
Chapter 12: Decided
Bixby opened the shunt line from the control room of Venture Lab. Ellen’s face appeared on the main monitor. She appeared to be in a vehicle. He was expecting Pander. The guy was annoying, and Ellen was sure prettier, but this couldn’t be good.
“Hello, Bixby. I expect progress on the Proxima is on schedule?”
Bixby was honest. “There’s been some delay—”
“I expected as much. You’re still working on the droid, aren’t you?”
That little twerp. So Pander had sold him out after all. There was no point in trying to hide it anymore, but he shooed Niner away from the console anyway. “Pander told you.”
“I told Pander. We know all about Ninnever. She was our patient for years before we acquired you.”
There it was. Ellen was admitting what he had suspected all along.
“So Smeiser was experimenting on the children of moon settlers. You know what would happen if word got out—”
“Oh, quit pretending to be so naïve. You figured it out. You figured out how to get Smeiser to build you a space station and put you in charge of it. Don’t tell me you
didn’t know about the moon babies—”
“Not for certain until just now. Let me guess, growing up with less gravity made them more suitable.”
“It made them less identifiable.”
“I see.”
“But we didn’t kidnap them through the chimney-tops if that’s what you’re implying. They all came voluntarily.”
“You mean Smeiser bought them from their parents.” Bixby had read that the practice was illegal before the corporations plead necessity. It was a confusing issue he still struggled with. If he himself hadn’t been put up for sale, his father would probably have killed him by now. Yet here he was with his own space station and crew.
“Look, I’m not going to debate the morality of it with you. We live in a business world and that’s business. I’d say if you don’t like it you should just ship out, but we both know you’re much too important for that.”
“Smeiser wants my private tech. Even if it was ready, I wouldn’t turn it over.”
“I know that. That’s why I’m making you an offer.”
“What kind of offer?”
“My protection when we get to Laramy. But you have to fully disclose what you’ve been up to.”
Bixby had no choice. There were follow-up sessions scheduled with the arbiter, but he knew where this was headed. From what Ellen was saying, she had been in control from the beginning and Pander was just a pawn. He said, “I’ve been working on mind transference.”
“I thought as much. And you succeeded with Ninnever?”
“Not quite. She’s mostly automaton, but I know she’s in there somewhere.”
“What do you mean?”
“I think the interface suppressed her personality. The automaton definitely benefits from basic logic skills—the kind that any human has by the time they are a teenager. But what we call a personality only emerges from time to time. The real Ninnever is buried somewhere in the droid casing.”
“What do you mean buried somewhere? That’s not possible. Even if you map and copy an entire brain to a machine—and I have yet to see one that can hold all the memories for recall the same way as a human brain—it’s still only a copy. It’s only a copy even if the copy thinks it’s the real Ninnever. The real original Ninnever is dead.”
Professor of Enigmas (Evil Tech Support Origins Book 1) Page 3