by Isaac Hooke
“It’s a big station,” Shaw said. “I’m sure she’ll find someone willing to sell here. Someone tempted by all the pleasures they could buy with the profits.”
Surus nodded. “I plan to visit the Flesh Toaster first. According to the station map, it’s the biggest flesh parlor aboard. If there’s anywhere I’ll be able to procure a ship, it’s there.”
“With your looks, I have no doubt you’ll get the price you want,” Bender said. “Though you might have to promise a little extra on the side.” He winked at her.
“There will be no little extras,” Surus said.
“Why not?” Bender said. “If you can’t scare up the cash, I’m sure you could earn what you need at the flesh parlor with that fine ass of yours.”
Surus cocked her head. “Keep talking. If you want to lose your lips.”
“Better watch it,” Manic said. “I think she fully intends to tear off your lips.”
“Damn robots,” Bender said. “Sexy as hell, and deadly. What’s a man to do? Surus, once we finally get rid of all the Phants in this region of the galaxy, you should sell me Ms. Bounty. I could have a lot of fun with her. Plus, I’ll have a good side hustle, pimping her out.”
“I’m going now,” Surus said.
“Wait up, I think I’ll eat at the flesh parlor after all,” Bender said. “So I’ll accompany you.”
“I don’t need accompaniment,” Surus said coldly.
“Come on,” Bender said. “I’ll be good, I promise. Besides, when they see a muscular tree trunk of a man like me at your side, the patrons will definitely leave you alone.”
“Aww, Bender thinks he’s a white knight,” Manic said.
“Shut up bitch-tits,” Bender said.
“Okay, Pussywillow,” Manic said.
“Why don’t you take Phooey Lui to one of the station’s eateries?” Bender said. “Seeing as the two of you aren’t interested in eating pussy.”
“Who says we’re not interested?” Lui said. “I’m with you. I want to see what this Toaster looks like. And I do love pussy pancakes.”
“Well I’m going, too,” Manic said. “I don’t want to miss it when Surus tears off Bender’s pussy lips.”
Rade gave the Argonauts permission to join her on the condition that they returned immediately when the time came. Tahoe planned to eat in the food court, and Harlequin elected to join him, since neither were interested in the flesh parlor. Rade instructed Tahoe to arrange for the delivery of fresh food supplies while he was out there; hopefully by then Surus would have a ship for them to forward the supplies to. He also told Tahoe to pick up a replacement mech for the one he lost, if possible; Rade had finally received confirmation of his combat robot license renewal, and could purchase them legally once more. Though at a place like this, the sellers were just as likely not to ask to see the license, he supposed. Even so, Rade instructed two of the online combat robots to join him, so that Tahoe would have proof the license was real, and to protect him in case any of the deals turned sour.
When the Argonauts were gone, Rade ordered the remaining active Centurions outside to act as guards.
“Finally we have some quiet time,” Rade told Shaw.
“Yes,” Shaw replied.
But they didn’t talk any further. Instead, Shaw hugged him close, and Rade simply held her in his arms. That was fine with him, because he wasn’t feeling all that sociable at the moment, and honestly just wanted to cave out.
Harlequin returned a short while later with some bagged food, and Rade released Shaw to eat.
“Barbecue chicken,” Rade said, opening his carton. “Of all the food you could have purchased, all the varieties available on the station, you had to go and buy barbecue chicken.”
“It is your favorite food, isn’t it?” Harlequin said, his expression crumpling in puzzlement. “That’s what you humans always eat in the wardroom...”
“It’s fine,” Rade said, diving into his food. He had to be careful to eat slowly; coming off the five days of rationing, it would be all too easy to throw up.
Though Rade had complained to Harlequin about the lack of variety, it tasted like the best barbecue chicken he had ever had. Starvation and five days of half-ration liquid meals would do that.
Shaw, on the other hand, seemed to be forcing herself to eat.
When she noticed Rade staring at her, she said: “I don’t really have an appetite.”
“I know,” Rade said. “But keep doing what you’re doing. Finish your chicken. You’re going to need the energy.”
She nodded slowly, and ate.
“It must be an interesting feeling,” Harlequin said, staring at the two jumpsuits serving as incubators. “Knowing that you have birthed two new lifeforms. It would be like me building two Artificials from scratch, I suppose.”
“It’s not the same,” Rade said, chewing a large piece. “Since the process happens automatically in humans.”
“Not so automatically,” Shaw said. “I have to suffer the burden of pregnancy. And birth. Though I suppose I cheated this time around. But it was just as painful.”
Rade nodded sadly. “I meant only that, as humans, we don’t actually have to do any constructing personally. We don’t have to install servomotors and power supplies. Or attach limbs.”
“Hmm,” Harlequin said. “So for me, it would be more like commissioning a new Artificial to be built from the factory then.”
“I suppose so,” Rade said, ripping off another chunk of chicken.
“I wonder, would you be against my purchasing an Artificial for myself?” Harlequin said. “I could start with a small one, a child, with the personality to match. And upgrade its AI core to successively more mature personalities over time, along with more developed bodies.”
“I’d rather you didn’t,” Rade said. “We’ll have enough children aboard. If you really want to experience fatherhood, I suggest you help Shaw and me raise the twins. I expect most of the crew will participate in one way or another, after all. At some point.”
Harlequin pursed his lips, as if considering. It was an all too human expression he had no doubt developed after much observation of his fellow Argonauts.
“It’ll be sort of like practice,” Harlequin said. “To see if I like being a father.”
“That’s right,” Rade said.
Harlequin was quiet a few moments, watching Rade eat.
“Do you wish you had had a chance to practice before actually having kids?” Harlequin said.
Rade hesitated. He glanced at Shaw. Then he sighed. “Sometimes. But in truth, I’m also a little relieved. I’m putting back some life into the universe. I’ve been taking life away from it for so long, it’s about time I repaid my debt, don’t you think?”
“I’ve never thought of it that way,” Harlequin said. “But it does make some sense. Though I somehow doubt the universe tracks individual life debts in that manner.”
“You might be surprised,” Rade said.
twenty-one
Rade received a dispatch from Surus about an hour later.
“I have some good news and some bad news,” Surus said over the comm. “Which would you prefer first?”
“The good news,” Rade said.
“I’ve managed to secure a ship,” Surus said. “It wasn’t cheap, but we’re now the proud owners of a fine Corsair class vessel. Russian Model 45.”
“And the bad news is it cost you our salaries for the next twenty years,” Rade said.
“Far more than that,” Surus said. “But that’s not the bad news.”
Rade waited for her to elaborate. When she didn’t, he said: “Well, what is it then?”
“Some of my bank accounts have been drained,” Surus said.
“What do you mean?” Rade asked. “That’s to be expected from such an expensive purchase, isn’t it?”
“No, it wasn’t the purchase,” Surus explained. “The drain occurred before. Some of the Greens hidden away in this part of the galaxy have raid
ed my accounts. They have drained one-third of them. The other two-thirds remain untouched. I’m confident they won’t find the money, as I never used those accounts in my transactions with them.”
“So they’ve already begun squeezing you,” Rade said.
“Yes,” Surus said. “They told me to stand down, and I refused. They told me I would be hunted, just as Corunna promised. I’ve sent word to Noctua to move my home base. I only hope she succeeds in time.”
“I thought you kept your location a secret from the Greens?” Rade said.
“Not from them,” Surus said. “From your governments. Most of the Greens know, and those who do not can ask the others. The base location is compromised.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Rade said.
“Don’t be,” Surus said. “It was about time I moved it anyway.”
Rade glanced at Shaw and Harlequin beside him, who were listening in on the conversation. “Does it bother you that you’re betraying your race?”
“Sometimes,” Surus said. “But it bothers me more that they are betraying humanity, our greatest allies. If the majority of Greens knew what the High Council was doing, they would not approve. I’m sure the knowledge has been kept hidden from them.”
“And if that knowledge hasn’t been kept from them?” Rade said. “And all Greens do approve?”
“Then to hell with them,” Surus said. “Peace at all costs is no peace at all. Especially when the other Phants will one day break it, after they’ve conquered humanity and converted you all to geronium.”
“But you’re not going to let that happen, right?” Rade said. “The ‘convert us to geronium’ part?”
Surus nodded. “None of you will be around by then. But I will help humanity. Because even if the Greens don’t see it, it is in our best interests to protect you from the other hives.”
“You don’t want them to get stronger, is that it?” Rade said. “Before they turn on the Greens.”
“You’ve hit on it,” Surus replied.
“Our grandchildren will be around, you know,” Rade said, glancing at the jumpsuit incubators. “A human’s average lifespan is what these days... three hundred?”
“True,” Surus said. “Then I suppose I will be fighting the Phants with your grandkids.”
“Assuming they don’t find a way to get here sooner,” Rade said.
There was a pause on the connection. Finally, Surus said: “Pray that they do not.”
Rade sent a message to his Argonauts, urging them to finish up what they were doing and to proceed back to the shuttles at their earliest convenience. Some of the crew members, notably Manic, Fret, TJ and Bender, sounded either as if they were chowing down on a huge meal at the time of the call, or having sex. Maybe a combination of the two.
Rade gave the hangar master the coordinates of the corsair so that the robot had somewhere to send the repair materials. He gave the same coordinates to Tahoe for the procured food stocks. Tahoe reported that he had successfully purchased several tonnes of food, but couldn’t find a mech to replace the one he had lost.
“There are no combat robot shops aboard,” Tahoe complained. “Which kind of makes sense, I guess, considering this is a pleasure outpost. And I couldn’t find anyone interested in selling me a mech in any of the flesh parlors. Most of the clientele here are privateers and traders. The kind of people that don’t really have need of mechs.”
“Traders, I can understand,” Rade said. “But you’d think privateers could use a few mechs.”
“Maybe to defend their personal bases,” Tahoe said. “But mechs are useless for boarding parties—won’t fit most standard-issue passageways, at least in the kinds of ships they usually target.”
“Good point,” Rade said. “All right, that’s too bad. Get back to the shuttles.”
It took about half an hour, and repeated threats of abandonment before finally the Argonauts had reassembled in the shuttles once more. When everyone was aboard the two craft, Rade asked Algorithm to have Space Traffic Control expedite their launch request. Unfortunately, the tower didn’t grant them clearance for another half hour, and did so only after Surus agreed to bribe the officials. The Argonauts used the time to change back into their jumpsuits.
Finally the hangar bay vented and the shuttles took flight. The Hoplites made a running leap from the hangar bay and jetted outside to join them; they latched on behind the Dragonfly that housed Rade, allowing the shuttle to drag the mechs in a long line that mirrored their previous formation on the way to the station.
The Dragonflies proceeded toward the corsair on the course Space Traffic Control authorized. Surus sent Rade the access codes for the new starship en route. He accessed the external camera of the shuttle as it approached the ship. The vessel’s shape was reminiscent of a blaster. It had a long main section, with a smaller secondary subsection connected by a wing. Dangerous looking turrets protruded from the bluish hull of the main section on the port and starboard sides, and at the nose and aft sections resided the sealed openings of missile launch tubes. It was a sleek craft, smaller than the Argonaut. Because of its relatively small size and maneuverability, the Corsair class was favored by privateers. In fact, Rade suspected the Russian that Surus had bought it from was in fact a privateer himself.
The ship was called the Molotok. The Russian word for gavel. Rade thought it was a suiting name, given that he was going to pass judgment on the two Phants.
Using the access codes, Rade attempted to open the hangar doors. It took a few attempts, but finally the barn doors parted. The trailing Hoplites released the Dragonfly, and the shuttle landed in a hangar bay that was devoid of any craft save for a lone, beat-up telemetry drone. The mechs touched down beside it a moment later, followed by the second shuttle.
The rest of the ship proved just as empty. It seemed the previous owners had ordered any occupying robots to recover anything of value in the hour since the purchase. Or maybe the ship had been bare-boned like that to begin with. It was a good thing Rade had arranged for the food stocks and raw repair materials, because the new ship had neither.
On the bright side, it did come with some existing ordnance. Rade accessed the inventory: there were only three outdated Hellfire missiles aboard, so he would have to make a stop at some point to pick up more missiles, since the station didn’t stock any. The two banks of Viper lasers were rather weak models, but they would do for his purposes.
The internal surfaces were covered in a layer of grime. Bender swept a gloved finger along a bulkhead at one point; when he removed it the finger was darker and a light streak remained on the wall.
“Nice,” Bender said. “Hope you didn’t pay too much for this junk bucket. Feels like a derelict.”
“And I hope you enjoyed the company, and cost, of those three women,” Surus said. Was that a hint of jealousy in her tone?
Bender flashed his golden grille. “I certainly did. I got some memories to last me for the next few months. It’s too bad Manic had to rent the room beside mine. Don’t think I’ll ever be able to scrub his shouts of ecstasy from my mind.” He glanced at Manic. “What the hell were you shouting? ‘Pound me harder?’ Geez.”
“Um, no,” Manic said. “That was the skin musician shouting that.”
“Yeah, sure sure,” Bender said. “That was you. Squealing like a little bitch, as always. Maybe you shouldn’t rent a male skin musician next time.”
“Come on Lui,” Manic said. “Back me up here.”
“Sorry, I wasn’t paying too much attention to the gals you ordered,” Lui said. “Too busy throwing up.”
“What?” Tahoe said. “What happened?”
“Simple,” Lui said. “That place was a foodie paradise. There was this big buffet, see, with all the dishes served on naked bodies. It was split into male and female foods. I focused on the female, of course.”
“Ha!” Bender said. “I saw you hovering around the buffet dish labeled ‘spotted dick’ when I got out. And literally, it wa
s spotted dick.”
“Bro, you’re going to make me throw up again,” Lui said.
“You never said what happened,” Tahoe pressed.
“Well, what do you think?” Lui said. “All you could eat, served off naked female bodies? Of course I made myself sick. Should have paced myself after living off liquid rations for the past five days.”
The cargo haulers with the raw foodstuffs and repair materials arrived shortly after the crew docked, and Rade had Tahoe supervise the loading of the cargo bays as robot longshoremen and bulk loaders transferred them aboard.
As an aside, Tahoe reported that there were bloodstains in the cargo bay—he tried cleaning them, but couldn’t get the stains out. The news only confirmed for Rade that the ship’s previous owner was a privateer.
Rade and Shaw escorted the twins to the sickbay. The Molotok didn’t have any incubators aboard, but it did have relatively decent 3D printers, so Rade was able to print a proper set after digging up some of the recently arrived raw materials. He left Shaw in sickbay to supervise the transfer of the babies to their new environments.
Bender and Manic arrived as Rade was leaving, with the intention of finally getting their broken noses set.
“Time to make myself pretty for Bender,” Manic said.
“That way I can break it again!” Bender added gleefully.
“What, break your own nose?” Manic said.
“No, Bitch-tits, yours!”
Rade assigned berthing areas and chose the largest stateroom for himself and Shaw. He carried spare fatigues from the shuttle, and after changing out of his jumpsuit, he made his way to the bridge.
He took his place at the equivalent of the Sphinx—all human ships utilized the same circular design for their bridges, with empty stations whose features were accessible by Implant or aReal goggles. Those features were operated by the on-board AI by default, unless a human took over.
“Harlequin,” Rade sent the Artificial. “I want all active Centurions to begin repairs of the Hoplites and offline robots immediately. I want you to help with the work. Focus on the Hoplites first. When the units are fully operational, make sure their jumpjets are topped up again, and their frag grenades restocked.”