by Isaac Hooke
“The satellites in orbit would pick you up on the first day,” Horatio said. “There would be no ‘discreet’ in such a plan.”
“Yes, I know,” Miles said. “Another reason we ruled it out. So, this left us with only one real option. A water run.”
Rhea raised an eyebrow. “A water run?”
“Yes,” Miles said. “We’ve reached out to about a hundred residents who are still homeless and asked them if we could use the materials from their ruined houses to create three supply tanks. They’ve all agreed, and we’re 3D-printing those tanks as we speak, which we plan to connect to three pickup trucks recovered from the debris. Trucks that we’re converting into semis.”
“Wait a second, let’s see if I’m understanding this correctly,” Will said. “You’re building three supply tankers to drive into the Outlands, which you intend to fill with water from the main pipelines, and when that’s done, you plan to return to Rust Town with them.”
“That’s right,” Miles said.
“We’re going to be out in the open the whole time,” Rhea said.
“Yes,” Miles said. “But the city’s security forces won’t attack, not until we load up our tankers. We’re going to disguise them as a car carrier convoy, complete with false heat signatures to fool the satellites. But on the way back, once the city realizes what we’ve done, you’re right, they’ll try to stop us from bringing back the water.”
“We’re going to need an armed escort,” Rhea said.
“We have a few more pickups, and several drones,” Miles said.
“Not sure it’ll be enough,” Will said.
Miles was smiling.
“Those tanks are decoys,” Rhea said.
“Very good,” Miles told her. And he proceeded to reveal the actual operation.
Rhea smiled. “Ah. That’s good. Very good.”
“With proper rationing and recycling, one run could last a week,” Miles added.
“But they won’t fall for the same trick twice…” Will said.
“No, but that’s a week more than we have now,” Rhea said. “I say we do it.”
A day later found Rhea seated on the passenger side of a rig while Will sat in the driver’s seat. Horatio perched between them. They drove across the barren rock of the Outlands at a good clip; the super-gimbaled shock absorbers prevented her from being tossed about by every small bump in the terrain.
The three of them wore camo fatigues that had some stealth properties, the foremost being thermal masking, which would hide their infrared signatures in the dark. The second property was the black and gray “rock digital” pattern stamped onto the surface, which would blend them in with their surroundings during broad daylight.
Outside, two other tankers followed along a fair distance to the left and right—semis hauling long, cylindrical metal tanks on beds. The top portions had been stained with special paint to fool the visual and thermal bands of the satellites in orbit into believing the semis carried passenger vehicles meant for resale. A car carrier convoy, as Miles said.
Between the semis were smaller, autonomous pickup trucks sporting rocket launchers or laser turrets bolted to the beds—technicals, in military speak. That knowledge bubbled into her consciousness from her past life, as such thoughts sometimes did, the moments associated with them long forgotten.
She thought of the two memories she had recalled so far. The first had her standing in a vaulted chamber with archways in the walls branching off into different corridors. She guessed the chamber was located in the parliament area of Aradne, since that was where the memory had come, triggered by the sight of a similar chamber.
In the recollection, she answered to a clean-shaven, square-jawed individual with a bald head and a stern expression. An aristocrat, she thought. A man who called her Dagger.
Do not fail me in this task, my Dagger.
The second memory involved fighting on some distant moon or planet. Well, fighting was perhaps too generous a word, as the combat was completely one-sided—a slaughter really, with her wielding the butcher’s ax. Certainly, her opponents tried to kill her, but she weaved between them with incredible ease, employing a strange energy weapon to perforate the fabric of their spacesuits and expose them to the deadly environment of the planet, if not killing them outright with the initial strike.
She wasn’t quite sure what to make of either memory, but she had been some kind of warrior or assassin in her past life, that much seemed certain. That made her feel strange, because she didn’t think of herself as a warrior or assassin. Killing seemed so foreign to her when she thought about it outside battle, but as soon as the energy rifles started going off, a strange lust came over her, a yearning to be part of the action. She forgot about her own safety and simply lived in the moment, existing only to kill bioweapons. Or in the case of The Scorpion, cyborgs.
I killed Anderson, too, she reminded herself.
She smiled sadly at that, wishing she had started scanning her followers for mind-jacking chips sooner. Oh well. There was nothing she could do about it now. She wouldn’t beat herself up over it. She couldn’t.
The men were scanned twice a day now, so hopefully a mishap like that wouldn’t happen again. Still, when she found this Veil, she’d have to make certain he paid in full for what he’d done.
Rhea scanned the rocky terrain of the Outlands that surrounded the convoy. She watched for bioweapons, or signs of Aradne security forces. According to the crowdsourced hotspot data, bioweapon activity was relatively high in the area, with several pods of Tasins recently sighted. If the scouts spotted any, she planned to change course immediately, hopefully before the bioweapons noticed them. If the convoy was spotted, there was a good chance the vehicles would outrun the creatures: Tasins could only keep up their top speed for a very short time, while these semis could operate at one hundred and twenty klicks an hour for a good amount of time, even when hauling the trailers. Eventually the vehicles would have to slow down to let the solar cells recharge, of course, but by then the Tasins would be long gone behind them.
She glanced at the ground, which rolled past in a blur. The terrain was another factor that would limit the convoy’s top speed, but so far, the plains remained relatively flat, if rocky. If it became too bumpy, however, that could definitely impact how fast the semis moved.
She gazed overhead, where a squad of drones followed along. Most of them were armed in some form or another. Well, except for Gizmo, who assumed a pure scouting role. The drones would warn the convoy of approaching bioweapons well before anyone on the ground could sight the creatures. That, and the approach of any security forces.
“You know, it’s really tempting to take over the wheel,” Will said, his hands on the aforementioned steering wheel. All self-driving vehicles had overrides to allow human, cyborg, or robot drivers to take over, as part of the built-in safety mechanisms. “I hate letting a machine control what I could just as easily steer myself.”
“I didn’t know you drove,” Rhea said.
He glanced at her and smiled. “I’ve salvaged entire vehicles before, don’t you worry. And when there’s an urgent need to transport said vehicles out of the Outlands, you learn to drive pretty quick.”
She smiled. “I’ll bet.”
“You wish you could drive, don’t you?” He winked at her.
“Nope.” She didn’t really care if he did the driving, or the machine. Either suited her. After all, in the military, the commanding officer rarely took direct control of a vehicle. Why do I know that?
It didn’t matter.
She stared at the barren landscape for a moment. The immediate area was a blur, thanks to the speed of their passage, but the more distant portions she could see readily enough. So many small rocks and stones out there, littering the terrain. An infinite number of them, forming a landscape when taken in their entirety. Just like the multitude of humans, cyborgs and robots spread across the solar system, who formed civilization when considered as a whole. C
ivilization. Sometimes she felt more at ease in the Outlands, surrounded by bioweapons, than in the small bastions of glass and steel—or cargo containers and lean-tos—the humans called civilization. By driving out here, she felt almost like she was going home.
She looked at Will once more. “Thank you.”
“For what?” he asked.
“For everything,” she replied. “For saving me from the trash heap. Introducing me to the Outlands, and the salvaging life. But most importantly, for doing this.” Her gaze took in Horatio. “The two of you risked your lives to return to Rust Town when the bioweapons attacked. After, you stayed on, helping to rebuild the settlement with me. You gave up salvaging for me. And you’re still here, joining me on a mission to restore the city’s water supply.”
“And we could leave at any time,” he grumbled.
“I know,” she said. “Which is why I thank you. Especially considering this is a mission we might not return from.”
Will smiled faintly.
“All of which begs the question, why do you stay?” she pressed. “Not that I don’t appreciate it, but… well, you don’t owe me anything. In fact, if anyone is the debtor here, it’s me.”
“We couldn’t abandon you now,” Will said. “Not when you needed us most. Brothers… sisters… they’ve got each other’s backs. If we needed you, you’d be right there for us. Just like you were in the Outlands, when we were battling bioweapons, and it seemed like there was no hope. When it seemed like we’d never get out of those dark caves, never see the light of day again. But we did it. Because we stuck together. Because we were there for each other. And I’ll be damned if I leave you now. Besides, I’m sure I speak for Horatio when I say this, but someone had to protect you from all those lusty Wardenites!”
Horatio turned his polycarbonate head toward her, and those antennae twitched. “He does not speak for me. I wanted the Wardenites to take you and be done with it so we wouldn’t have to worry about you anymore. Just kidding.”
Rhea grinned at the robot, but before Will could comment on the robot’s bad jokes, she gave the human salvager a serious look and said: “Are you certain you’re not staying because of something more?”
“No,” Will said hastily, looking away. “Well, I guess, to be frank, you’re like the little sister I never had. I feel… a bit protective about you. Maybe overprotective at times.”
Horatio studied her. “You asked the original question almost as if you were hoping he would admit to wanting something more.”
Rhea considered that for a moment. “Maybe I do hope for such things, sometimes. But other times, most times, I can’t imagine such a thing: being with someone. At least not at this point in my life.”
“Yeah, that’s kind of hard anyway, without the extensions,” Will said.
“Don’t forget, you promised to give her fifty creds if she didn’t install genital extensions six months after her debt was paid,” Horatio said.
“Yup, and we have another five months to go,” Will said.
“I bet she’s going to hold off until the fifth month,” Horatio said. “Just to get fifty credits out of you. And then as soon as you pay, the next day she’ll make an appointment to have the extensions installed.”
“Probably,” Will agreed.
“I doubt it,” Rhea said. “I like the freedom of not being beholden to anyone, let alone some genital extension. If I install such a thing, I’m worried I won’t be able to control the urges. I remember all the women you had coming up to your room when we first visited Rust Town…”
“Hey, when you travel in the Outlands for months on end, with nothing but a robot companion, a little sexual release is deserved,” Will said.
“How do you know he hasn’t been inviting women to visit him again since we’ve returned?” Horatio asked. “Multiple times. Sometimes in the same night.”
“Hey!” Will said, slapping the robot on the side of the head. “Don’t tell her that!”
“Don’t hit me like that again,” Horatio warned. “Unless you want me to hit back. You wouldn’t like it.”
“I don’t care if he’s been seeing other women, or renting fembots,” Rhea said. “But that’s my point… you’re a slave to your desires. I don’t want to be like that.”
Will stared at the horizon outside. His expression seemed almost yearning. “You’re probably on to something…” He was quiet a moment. “I sometimes wonder what it would be like to transfer my mind into a full body cyborg. That’s my endgame, you know. It’s always been my endgame. It’s everyone’s, whether we like it or not: when we get old enough that death from natural causes becomes a serious issue, it’s the only way to ensure we keep on living. I’m hoping to have enough creds saved up to afford the procedure by then.
“Problem is, I don’t know if I can stay ahead of inflation. Sure, parts go down in price over the years, but no matter how much I’ve made, the cost has always been out of reach. So I guess we’ll see. Still, I’m not sure what’s more troubling to me: the possibility that I can’t afford it, or the off chance that I can. Thinking about losing my body… just ripping my brain out and throwing the rest away, it’s a disturbing thought. You grow attached to your body. Get used to all its scars, and its quirks. Consider it yours, when in truth it’s only a rental.
“When the time finally comes, I’m not sure I’ll be able to give mine up. Then again, by that point, my body will probably be so old and worn out that maybe I’ll be happy to see it go, who knows? I’ll still be afraid, of course—there’s always the chance of complications. On the rare occasion the procedure fails to take, and you simply die. And what happens if I don’t like my new body?” He sighed. “If it’s the only way I can keep on living, I guess I’ll have no choice but to go through with it, if I have the creds. What an endgame, though, huh? Knowing that you’re going to give up the one thing that makes you most human. I sometimes wonder how you handle it.”
“Being a cyborg?” She shrugged. “I never had an option. I woke up like this, if you remember. I don’t have a past to miss.”
Will nodded. “It’s probably for the best that you can’t remember what you were.”
“Probably,” she agreed.
He thrummed his fingers on the dashboard for several moments.
“Maybe I’ll do that…” he announced.
She studied him uncertainly. “Do what?”
“Maybe I’ll have them wipe my mind after the transference,” Will said. “Now that would be interesting.”
“If you want to spend the rest of your life wondering who you were, then go for it,” she commented.
“Is it that bad for you?” he asked.
“No,” she answered. “Though I admit I’m curious, if a little afraid.”
“You’re not sure you’ll like who you were…” Will said.
She nodded. “But it shouldn’t matter. You said it yourself, we’re more than our pasts.”
“Yes, we are,” he agreed. “And yes, it shouldn’t matter.”
“But sometimes it does,” she said. “And that’s what scares me.”
Will had nothing to say to that.
They continued across the Outlands, making their way northeast toward their target. She glanced at her overhead map. The destination was marked as a flashing waypoint, visible when she zoomed out.
On the map, she could clearly see the line that represented the pipeline, colored green as it wended its way across the landscape toward the ocean. The waypoint was quite a distance along that route, about three hundred kilometers from Aradne.
The convoy could have approached the pipeline directly, aiming for a target closer to the city. While doing so might mean much less time was needed to reach the waypoint, that close to the city the Aradne security forces would scramble their air force and reach the convoy in minutes. The attack would come before Rhea and her team even started loading any water.
So instead the convoy approached the pipe at a relatively broad angle, first of all
to make their destination less obvious—another settlement was roughly along this course, and the Aradne security forces and AIs monitoring the satellite feeds would likely assume that was their destination. Secondly, this waypoint gave them at least some time to drill into the pipe and gather the water they needed before the attack squadrons could reach them. Even then it would be a close race: at three hundred kilometers, the airborne forces could arrive in half an hour. It was too bad the slum residents couldn’t afford to build airships big enough to handle the weight of these water tanks… ah well, she had to work with what she had.
Before leaving, Rhea and the others had shut off their remote interfaces, vanishing their IDs from the Net. Once they had entered the Outlands and were well away from any network nodes, they’d reactivated those interfaces so they could communicate with one another. It seemed a wise move, in case the Aradne government was keeping tabs on them.
They’d also kept the purpose of the semis and their intended destination known to only a handful of people. This limiting of information seemed to have worked, because if any spies had reported their intent, the convoy would have been attacked already.
After three hours of travel the main pipeline appeared on the horizon to the left. The drones picked it up first, and Will relayed Gizmo’s video feed to Rhea so she could watch the tiny, glinting section pass by. On their current course, this was the closest point of approach to their destination.
The convoy had encountered no resistance thus far, but that would change shortly.
“All right, it’s time,” Rhea said, transmitting over the band shared by the entire convoy. “Make a direct course for the pipeline.”
6
Rhea stood guard on top of the tanker as the robot assistants attached the rubber hoses to the pipeline. Surge release valves were located along the pipeline at one-kilometer intervals. They operated automatically, using gas pressure to vent excess water and vapor as the need arose. Next to these were manual bypasses, accessible over a local wireless network. These latter valves could be hacked, albeit with difficulty.