Robot Awareness: Special Edition

by B. C. Kowalski

  "Come on, I think we can go over there now," Porter said. Even Porter wasn’t immune to the excitement, a grin across his face as he spoke.

  The four of them ran, weaving through the crowd of onlookers as best they could. Most of the crowd had started to converged on the fence, vying to get as close to Veda's ship as they could. Porter led them on a meandering path through the polycarbonate bleachers, weaving a line through groups of gawkers waiting to get Veda’s autograph or get a glimpse of her up close.

  Finally they cleared the bulk of the crowd, making out Isellia’s XR, engines still burning on the landing pad. A group of security guards on a hover deck intercepted them; a man held out his hand in front of them. The other two, a man and a woman, were gesturing toward ground personnel who carried flight hooks to secure the ship in place.

  "We gotta wait for the engines to stop," Porter said to Joey, putting his hand on his shoulder. “They’ll let us through in a moment.”

  The engines on the XR roared high one last time, sending an orange flame out behind it, then slowly wound down from a full roar to a light whine, descending into silence. The cockpit remained closed. The security force remained unmoved, the door remained closed, and the crew waited in anticipation.

  Then the hatched opened, Isellia staring straight ahead. She sighed, going through her post-flight control check. When she finished, she slowly started crawling out of the cockpit, slowly finding her foothold on the port side wing and gingerly finding the ground.

  As soon as her feet hit the ground, they swarmed her. "What are you guys—" was all she got out before Joey, Porter and Stephen were all over her, Porter patting her on the shoulder and Joey hugging her.

  "You did great kid!" Porter said.

  "I didn't know you were so good!" Joey exclaimed.

  "Acceptable performance," robot said.

  Isellia opened her mouth to say something, but her emotions overwhelmed her. Tears ran down her cheeks. She felt like a failure, but — she didn't expect this reaction. "Guys, I didn't... I didn't..."

  "We're proud of you, Isellia. You really stuck it out."

  "You never quit, Isellia," Kenpur said. They looked up at him, surprised to see him standing there. "Had you not kept searching for a way to cross the finish line, you wouldn't have had that little burst at the end. You wouldn't have taken fifth. You wouldn't have qualified. Now you can advance."

  "The old man is right. And we're so proud of you," Porter said. They stood in a semi-circle around her. She wanted to protest, but she was too overwhelmed, too exhausted. She simply nodded, with a slumped posture.

  "Hey," Kenpur said, walking up to her. "You raced well, hold your head up high."

  All of her planned protest, her plan to brood and hide from everyone, all those thoughts and feelings evaporated as she collapsed into the group, hugging them again as her tears flowed.

  "Thanks guys," she said muffled through her sobs and the group's embrace. She didn't need to say any more.

  A familiar and unwelcome voice broke the moment. "Hey, I'm not rich. What were you thinking up there?"

  They turned to the betting man, clutching his program much more angrily than before. "And you, tin head! I thought you said she took fourth!"

  Isellia looked at the man, but Porter turned to her, shaking his head. Then he turned back to betting man. "All right, that's enough. Just get moving on."

  "With what money? I barely made enough for a flight back home. And it's all her fault, spinning out of control like that. What kind of amateur —?"

  Porter grabbed the man by his loose, dirty shirt and pulled up. The man was on his tippy toes, his eyes wide with surprise and fear.

  "Oh, hey, listen buddy," he stammered, looking around for security. The security forces watched, but did nothing. "You know, it's not that big a deal, I — hey, you win some, lose some, right? Say, could you..."

  "I'm going to say this one more time," Porter said, his eyes narrowing. "Go away."

  He dropped the man with a shove, sending him stumbling backward. He recovered his balance, straightened his clothes, then ran off.

  “Didn’t know you were so violent?” Isellia said, grinning at him.

  “Shut up,” Porter said, but he couldn’t hold back a grin either.

  “Don’t listen to that guy, he’s a jerk,” Joey said.

  Isellia laughed, ruffling Joey’s sandy blonde hair. "Betting junkies are part of being a racer. I learned to ignore those idiots a long time ago. Besides … we have more pressing matters."

  Kenpur nodded.

  ***

  The crew members busied themselves packing the night after the race, the thought of their destination sobering the excitement of the day’s race. There would be another race — inside the Inner Circle — but it would be decidedly less entertaining.

  Isellia set the docking clamps on her XR, patting the side of its hull like a rider might a horse. You did good, she whispered to the ship as she cleaned off its wings.

  She had watched the awards ceremony. Veda had stood on the top podium with confidence, and a bit of indifference. Veda relished the finish line moment, but she’d been there before and it showed. Spectators crowded behind the press corps, while they took photos and holo images, and got their sound bites for the early edition. Later, they would inundate Isellia herself with questions — what prompted her comeback? How did she feel about fifth place? Was this the start of her comeback? She was a bit surprised at the attention, not realizing she was, according to the press, both photogenic and that her comeback story would read well.

  But her mind lingered on Veda. She vowed she would get her next time.

  "Still polishing that old rust bucket?" said a bright, sarcastic voice from her doorway.

  Isellia turned to see Veda, leaning in the doorway nonchalantly.

  "Veda," she said, with false warmness only other women can recognize for what it is. “Guess they let anyone in here. Bored with your own victory party?"

  "Well, you've seen one, you've seen them all," she said.

  "Well, if you're looking for congratulations, maybe you can find one of your lapdogs to give you some." Isellia polished her ship as if Veda wasn't there.

  "Actually, I came to say that to you."

  Isellia stopped and straightened up. "Is that supposed to be funny?"

  "No," Veda said. "You hung in pretty well today. Not bad for having been gone so long."

  "That supposed to be a compliment?"

  "Hardly. You're still no match for me," Veda smiled the grin of self-assured pride.

  "We'll see," Isellia said. "I'm coming after you next time." Isellia looked at her out of the corner of her eye, still polishing her ship — the same spot, which by now couldn't be polished any shinier.

  "Wouldn't have it any other way," Veda hummed. She crossed her arms as she leaned against the bulkhead. "You know, we used to be friends."

  Isellia nodded. She said nothing but had stopped polishing her XR’s hull.

  Then Veda regained her boldness, tapping the bulkhead to emphasis. "You better be ready."

  Isellia straightened up, looking right at her. "You better be ready.”

  Veda snorted. “See you at the finish line,” she said, turning out through the doorway without waiting for a response.

  “Later," Isellia said dismissively. They had once been friends. Once.

  "Good to have you back," Veda muttered as she left the compound, barely loud enough for anyone to hear.

  "Next time," Isellia muttered to herself.

  Chapter 38

  The glow of electric light dimly lit the small, clean and bare cell, the blue glow its only illumination. Rex felt his wrists restrained above him, locked tighter than he could wiggle out of. And he could wiggle out of a lot.

  He blinked his eyes and wondered how long he'd been here. He remembered the fight in front of the administrator's mansion. Then nothing. He tried to focus on the light under what he could only guess was a doorway, but it spun, as woul
d the rest of the room had it been lit enough for him to see.

  It was clean and dry, the room he was in. He took a swallow, and found his throat was dry. It took great effort to get it down.

  He wiggled his fingers, checking his circulation. Whoever applied his restraints knew what he was doing. Or she. The cuffs were just tight enough to keep him locked in, not tight enough to stop reasonable blood flow to his extremities. His feet were locked with the same care.

  He was shirtless, he discovered as the slightest of draft hit his muscled torso. Air-conditioned, pleasantly sterile. The air was cool and clean, and odorless. This was an expensive ship or facility. He rubbed his chin on his right bicep, scratching the skin with his growing stubble. He guessed from the feel of his facial growth that he had been here about three days. Combined with grogginess, he guessed he had been drugged, and had just come out of it. Whoever applied the drugs would likely know just about when he would come out of his stupor. Meaning they should be coming through any...

  The electronic light expanded into the room as the door slowly opened. He set his mind, his face, his gaze, ready to let what may come, come. He prepared his mind to escape while his body endured. Whatever torments awaited, he would endure, while keeping his mind inaccessible.

  Or so he thought.

  "So, you're awake?" a thin, high-pitched male voice said. "Come, Celia"

  Rex's eyes widened as the two, backlit, entered the room — one obviously the silhouette of a military style uniform, likely a Company commander — the other a very familiar, shapely figure.

  The lights flicked on in the room — a low blue light that only offered dim illumination to the dark room, similar to the hallway showing through the door behind them. Dim blue lights lined the corridor, leading off — Rex knew not where. Likely a craft or spaceship of some kind.

  But those thoughts only occupied the back of his mind. At the forefront was the woman he'd loved only a week ago, the woman he knew intimately, more so than any other woman in his generally solitary existence, now looking at him with a cold, blank stare.

  "That's good, because I have a few ... questions my boss would like answered."

  Rex said nothing, but eyed Celia with as blank and cold a stare as he could muster — similar to the one she gave him. She gave no signs of recognition, and he returned the same, trying to read something, anything from her stare.

  Instead he got a gloved slap across his cheek from the officious man.

  "You dare ignore me?" he said, grabbing Rex's chin with his gloved hand. "I'll teach you to ignore me!"

  Rex's mind escaped, but not before the first blows fell. The man hit him with the abandon of one who knows he won't get hit back. He struck Rex everywhere he could think. Rex grunted instinctively with each blow, but his mind was set. He forgot about Celia, about the gloved man, about the room itself. He put himself elsewhere, in a state where the blows registered as if to someone he was watching. He had endured this before, but somehow he knew this would be worse.

  All the while, he still sensed the room, waiting for any sign of weakness, and mistake he could pounce on. And when that moment came, pounce he would.

  While the blows continued to fall, he noticed something in Celia She watched with no apparent emotion, but there was a certain... tension in her muscles. It could be the guilt of someone who knows they are double-crossing someone, but Celia is a trained assassin. No, there was something else. But...

  "Hmm, I see you will be tough to break," the gloved man said, taking a white cloth from the shirt pocket of his dark grey uniform, gingerly cleaning the black gloves. The man was sweating with effort, and his breath heavy. "Let's go for now, Celia We can discuss your fee later."

  He turned, as if on a dime, and promptly left the door that opened as he neared it. Celia remained a spell, looking at him as if expecting to find something. Whether she did or not, after a moment she turned on her heels and walked out, leaving the room silent.

  Rex tested the restraints again, so see if they'd loosened in the struggle. They hadn't.

  ***

  The dim glow of light from the doorway made Porter squint as he opened his eyes, realizing it was morning. He felt some relief that they were leaving this place, done with the politics of Farven Point. But the thought of where they were headed next overshadowed that relief. He sat up in bed, slumped with his elbows resting on his knees, he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and yawned.

  No sense worrying about it, he thought. Time to get the ship ready for launch.

  "I-I-I'm sorry, s-sir," Stephen said, running into Porter as he stepped out of his quarters. Stephen saluted. Porter sighed.

  “Don’t call me ‘sir,’ Stephen,” Porter called after him. He hoped for respect and expected them to follow orders, but he didn't want to be a “sir.”

  "Okay, s-sir, I mean, Okay boss, er," Stephen muttered, half turning around as he walked and nearly tripping over himself.

  Porter sighed, not wanting to press the issue. “I think ‘boss’ is almost worse,” he muttered to himself as he turned in the direction of the bridge.

  As the bridge doors opened, he saw Kenpur sitting at one of the empty terminals, and Joey going through the preflight, following a list Isellia had prepared. He could see the top of her knees, telling him she was checking on some wiring underneath the console. The robot had wired itself into the navigation console; he could see a list of flight schedules displayed on the wall monitor. A small spider crack had grown larger, the cracks in the glass spreading into the terminal. Another thing that would need to be fixed at some point.

  "Hey starshine, glad you could join us," Isellia said, looking up from under the console. Her usual sarcasm couldn't mask her mood, however; Isellia seemed to be positively glowing, in a way he'd never seen.

  "Looks like you guys got an early start."

  Joey handed him a cup of coffee. "Well, what's this?" Porter ruffled Joey's hair.

  "Kenpur said you'd be wanting some this morning. On account of the alcohol and all."

  Porter rubbed his temple with his free hand. Eventually, they had celebrated. The drinks didn't normally affect him too much, but Farven Point Yarberry beer was known for being particularly hard-hitting.

  "Yeah, well..."

  "And guess what else?" Isellia said, waving her credit reader in the air. "We got paid."

  "Paid?"

  "Fifth place," Kenpur said, "does not pay as well as first. But it still pays."

  "How much? Porter asked.

  "A lot." Isellia showed him the pad.

  "Ho!" Porter said, nearly spit out his coffee.

  "I already transferred your percentage," Isellia hummed musically.

  "You mean that's just your cut?" All earnings were split amongst them, minus ship expenses. Through their agreement, if someone does the most work, or most dangerous, they get the bonus cut. A bonus cut is usually so obvious that no one argues it, and the XR race was a perfect example.

  "Yeah, they pay even the low positions," Joey said. "Isellia coulda totally screwed up, and got 249th, and still made something — OW!"

  Isellia reached over and pinched his arm. He yelped but grinned, as did she.

  "The next one pays more," she said, glowering at him. "And I won’t get 249th!"

  Porter sipped his coffee, but his grin slowly dropped.

  "We don't have a next one," Porter said, leaning against a bulkhead next to the door. "Not until we find Rex."

  "It turns out, we can do both," Kenpur said, looking into his computer.

  Porter looked at him with groggy surprise.

  The robot, which had been silent like a piece of furniture, spoke up. "Rex is held in inner ring. Isellia has invited to the Blackgate 620. Only way in. Logically, she has to accept."

  Porter slumped into his captain’s chair, sighing before taking another sip of coffee. The thought of willingly entering the Inner Circle made his stomach sink.

  Things could be worse, of course, he thought. They were ear
ning money with these races, the races themselves were less risky than any smuggling work he might pick up. He didn’t even bother buzzing into the network in Farven Point to look for jobs. His job was his passengers, and he was still missing two. No sense in complicating things as long as they had money and could count on one more when the job finally paid off. And that was even less of a concern as long as Isellia placed decently in these races. Maybe they would become a full fledged XR crew. It was certainly less dangerous and more exciting than "transport." And it apparently paid a lot better.

  But, The Inner Circle. Porter found it hard to think of any good reasons to go there; and he could think of a laundry list of reasons not to. Fate seemed to have no interest in his list, however; they were going, and that was it.

  He nodded, taking another sip of his coffee. "I guess it's settled."

  "Great," Isellia said, swiveling in her chair. "There's a great parts shop just outside the circle, and it's sooo cool, we have to go — oh, I just can't wait, there's so much I want to get..."

  Porter stopped listening, sipping his coffee while Isellia told Joey all about the upgrades and gear she intended to buy, while he nodded and listened, having only a vague notion of what she was talking about. He watched them, seemingly oblivious to what they were about to do. Did they not know they were about to leave the outer circle, and venture into an area where Company C didn’t just have influence, but was the law?

  They would launch in a few hours, headed to a place he'd dreaded all his life, with more questions than he cared to think about regarding what they where they were about to go. But somehow, he thought, drinking the last drops of coffee from the white mug, that he would only get more questions than answers.

  ***

  Just as Joey was about to check off the last item on his pre-flight checklist, an icon in the shape of a small door appeared on his monitor, flashing yellow. He turned to Porter, who nodded.

  "I've got it, Joey,” he said, getting out of his chair. He’d found another cup of coffee, which he set on the arm rest before he left. "Probably port security anyway."