by M. D. Cooper
Those augmentations had dosed her with drugs, and given all of the counseling that a non-sentient AI could provide; but it still wasn’t enough. Rika knew that she needed human companionship to help pull her out—but that was just the sort of thing that got her in this mess.
She remembered what Silva—scout team Hammerfall’s leader, and Rika’s dear friend—had told her when the war had ended: “Rika, things are going to be hard for us, maybe harder than the war. There’s no place for us out there, back with…people. But we have to try. If we shun humans…that’s when we stop being human.”
Rika and Silva had been separated by the Nietzscheans when the Genevian military had surrendered. Rika had searched long for her former team leader, but it was as though the woman had disappeared.
Rika feared that the Nietzscheans had found Silva unfit for a return to normal society, and had killed her.
She sincerely hoped that had not occurred. Silva had always struck Rika as the most well adjusted member of Hammerfall. If the Nietzscheans had found Silva unfit for reintegration, Rika couldn’t imagine how they’d given her a pass.
“Enough!” Rika said aloud, and sat up, grabbing a cloth to rub her eyes. The action sent a new wave of sadness through her.
It was the little things she missed the most. No one ever thought about how a mech, with cold steel hands—which Rika’s angular steel appendages barely counted as—couldn’t even rub their own fucking eyes!
Not unless they wanted to accidentally gouge them out.
Maybe getting my face back was a mistake, Rika thought; and not for the first time, either. The debt she was under was crushing, and the repairs from the fight with Denny and his thugs a few weeks back had pushed her under even further.
Rika had been forced to reach out to Pierce, a loan shark—no, a loan megalodon—to get the money to repair herself so that she could get to work at the docks, and slowly wear herself out for the next pending repair.
Pierce had demanded a consolidation, saying that there was no point in her being last in line to pick Rika’s sorry ass clean when she reneged on her obligations.
So Pierce had paid off all Rika’s other debtors, which had an upside; none of the small fish were going to ask for a little something extra when Pierce came around to settle up.
Of course, the downside was that Pierce pretty much owned Rika now. For all intents and purposes, Rika worked for Pierce.
As if her existence couldn’t be any shittier.
“No!” Rika shouted. She wasn’t going to fall into this trap and cry herself to sleep again. A walk around the station—the parts of the station worth walking around—was just what she needed.
She looked at her jacket, torn from where her arm had caught on it earlier that day, and decided not to bother donning it. It had been her last piece of clothing; the loss of which contributed to her current spate of melancholy self-loathing.
Rika rose and walked the two meters from her bed to the san unit, and picked up her brush, running it through her hair, and then wiping her face clean. She reset her makeup—another expenditure she had wasted money on after getting her face back—to be a touch darker than she wore at the docks.
Satisfied with her appearance from the neck up, she examined her body, ensuring that no bits of mattress or dirt were stuck in it.
Rika allowed a small smile to grace her lips. It wasn’t all bad, if one ignored the fact that her arms and legs were hard steel, and glossed over the armor mount points on her hips, shoulders, and elsewhere; the organic portions of her body were rather attractive, the matte-grey ‘skin’ the military had given her was smooth and perfect, bulging slightly where her augmented muscles rippled beneath.
“OK, Rika. Let’s go have a nice walk, look at the stars, and take our mind off what a shitbucket our life is.”
She barked a laugh. Talking aloud in the third person is probably not a good sign.
Rika left her small room, and walked through the narrow passageways toward one of the larger thoroughfares with walkways along the side, and room for groundcars in the center.
When she reached the broad corridor, the station was alive with light and life as people went about their business. It had reached the end of the second shift, and everyone was enjoying as much revelry as possible before the next day’s drudgery was upon them.
Rika passed a couple wrapped in a passionate embrace. Their lips were locked together, bodies ignoring the world around them, and Rika’s thoughts flashed to Chase; he was probably still at Krueger’s, where he had invited her once again.
A maglev train screamed by, hanging from the overhead, far above the street traffic flowing around Rika, and she decided it was time. She had enough credit for one drink, and having that in the company of friends was just what she needed.
She strode down the walkway, threading her way between the other pedestrians. Most made way for her—bumping into a mech was not usually an enjoyable experience—but she had to skirt around some groups who gave her steely looks and refused to move.
Before long, Rika reached a maglev station, and boarded the train that would take her to the outer docking ring where Krueger’s was located. It was close to Hal’s Hell, but not too close—which suited her just fine.
She doubted sleep would come to her tonight. Maybe after having a drink with Chase, she could start her shift early and put in some extra hours to catch up on her already-late payments to Pierce.
The maglev station where she disembarked was only one hundred meters from Krueger’s, and as she stepped out onto the docking ring, Rika could hear the boisterous revelry spilling out of the establishment.
Krueger’s was frequented by an equal number of merchant crews and locals, and it was always full of happy, and some not-so-happy, drunks. Tables surrounded the bar’s main entrance, with umbrellas over each—a silly affectation within the station, but it did serve to add a more welcoming feel.
Rika looked for Chase around the tables outside; her augmented vision scanning the patrons, and highlighting those who gave off excess heat or heavy EM fields as heavily-modded. Most had a yellow glow surrounding them, but a few were outlined in red, and Rika subconsciously cataloged their threat levels and potential responses.
Chase wasn’t outside, so Rika strode past the tables toward the entrance, catching a few catcalls.
It was nothing new. Though her nethers were still sealed under the more durable skin the military had given her—and unseen by even her in years—it didn’t change the fact that, without the jacket she’d left back in her quarters, she was essentially naked.
“Look at that!” a man called out from a nearby table. “Now that’s what I call a cargo loader!”
Rika winced, but kept walking.
Her enhanced hearing picked out the man’s voice as he turned to his friends. “Saw her working in Hal’s Hell earlier today. Imagine having her on board? Work all day, and still have enough charge for play!”
The taste of blood entered her mouth, and Rika realized she was biting her cheek. Maybe her torn jacket would have been a good idea—it didn’t typically affect the number of comments she heard, but it did cleanse the content a little.
They’d say stuff like that to anyone. It’s not because you’re a mech, she thought to herself. Don’t let it get to you, Rika.
Once inside the bar, the crush of bodies shielded her from most eyes, and she relaxed in the anonymity. She scanned the crowd, and saw Chase down at the end of the bar with two of his friends—a man named Terry, and Terry’s sometimes-girlfriend, Trina.
As Rika approached, Chase caught sight of her, and his face lit up with a brilliant smile—the sight of which washed away the filth she felt from the man’s comments outside the bar.
Chase rose from his stool and held out a hand to welcome her. “Rika! I was starting to think that you were allergic to something in here! Really glad you could make it.”
Terry gave her a kind smile, but Trina’s eyes narrowed, and her lips formed someth
ing closer to a smirk than a smile.
“Great to see you again,” Terry said. “Chase is always talking about you, you know—all good things, of course.”
Rika saw Chase flush, and noted that his pulse had quickened.
“Well, she is amazing,” Chase said with a genuine smile, apparently going for broke. “I wouldn’t be able to survive Hal’s Hell without her around. Rika’s like my guardian angel.”
It was Rika’s turn to flush. Chase’s acceptance of her was one thing, but she didn’t think anyone had ever called her an angel.
“Thanks, Chase. I wouldn’t have made it through my first day in there without you,” she said with a small smile.
“What do you drink?” Chase asked.
“Or do you drink at all?” Trina asked with a smirk. “Other than oil, of course.”
Terry elbowed Trina, and Rika ignored the woman, determined not to lose the little high that Chase’s statements had given her.
“I’ve got enough credit for an amber ale, if they have any,” she replied.
“Rika, seriously, your money is no good here,” Chase said, as he leaned over the bar and shouted for something called a Rikers Amber. “You’ll like it,” he said with a smile.
“Thanks, Chase. I really appreciate that.”
“Nonsense, Rika. I’ve been saving some credit to buy you a drink for months. These chits have been so sad, trapped in the depths of my accounts, I have to set them free.”
Rika laughed, the sound almost foreign to her ears.
“You don’t do that enough,” Chase echoed her thoughts. “Maybe if you start coming out with me, I’ll get to hear it more. It’s certainly worth the price of a few beers.”
Rika felt her flush deepen, and a strange feeling crept into her heart. Just a sliver, but she knew what it was: happiness.
Chase bought her more drinks that night, and though her enhanced metabolism kept her from becoming drunk, she enjoyed the buzz. Terry was pleasant company as well, and even Trina kept her snarky comments to a minimum.
As the time slipped well into the third shift, Terry and Trina left, and Chase began to look tired.
“I can’t tell you how great it’s been, having you here tonight, Rika,” Chase said, his words slightly slurred. “Being with you is like a dream come true.”
“Chase,” Rika said with a smile. Though her heart soared to hear his words, she demurred, “I’m nobody’s dream.”
“Are you kidding?” Chase asked, as his eyes slid down her body and up again—something that they had done a few times during the evening. It wasn’t leering; it was appreciation—something she was all too eager for him to feel.
“Rika, you’re a goddess. You’re the epitome of perfection. And I’m not just talking about your smoking hot bod…” he flushed at that, and Rika was glad that the alcohol had elicited that unfiltered comment from him.
Rika smiled. “Do go on.”
“Uh, yeah, what I mean is that there’s so much strength in you. You got dealt one of the shittiest hands ever—and I don’t even know the half of it—but you’re so strong in there.” As he spoke, Chase touched a finger to her head. Then he lowered his hand to rest above her breasts.
“And here.”
Rika leaned forward and closed her eyes, silently begging whatever stars may still care about her to show Chase what to do.
Either they were listening, or Chase didn’t need any prodding; his lips met hers, and he leaned forward, wrapping his arms around her. She slowly embraced him, taking care to keep any pointy or sharp edges facing outward.
They moved into a back corner of the bar, Chase pushing Rika against the wall as they continued to press against one another. Chase explored her body, commenting with a laugh that her armor mount points made for useful handles.
Rika wished that she had managed to save enough money to reconstruct her nethers. If she had been able to have sex, she would have taken Chase right then and there in the back of the bar.
Though that was not possible, it didn’t seem to diminish Chase’s hunger for her, and they pleasured one another as much as they could. Eventually, Rika felt a tap on her shoulder, and she turned to see one of the bar’s staff.
“We’re closing up now,” the woman said, her smile not unkind. “You two lovebirds are going to have to take that somewhere else.”
“Ah, shit,” Chase sighed. “I was hoping we were stuck in some sort of temporal disturbance, and this could last forever.”
“Well,” Rika said as she gently ran a steel finger down Chase’s chest. “There’s always tomorrow night.”
“C’mon guys, I gotta clean up,” the woman said.
“OK, OK,” Chase said as Rika stood and helped him to his feet. “Damn, girl, you’re not even tipsy.”
“Takes a bit more than a dozen beers to set me back,” Rika said with a giggle. A giggle!
She helped Chase walk out of the bar and onto the docking ring. They both took a long breath, soaking in the myriad scents of Dekar’s ring, and Rika smiled.
Maybe things weren’t so bad after all.
Chase took her hand—growing steadier as they walked—and led her toward the maglev station.
“Why don’t you come back to my place?” he asked as they reached the platform.
“Oh, stars, Chase,” Rika whispered. “I can’t think of a damn thing I’d rather do right now. But your shift starts in six hours, and I need to put in some extra time to get caught up with Pierce.”
“Fucking work. I’d rather work at fucking,” Chase grinned.
Rika’s face fell; the sorrow she thought was gone crept up on her once more.
Chase stepped forward, a look of concern on his face. “Oh, shit, sorry, Rika. I know you can’t, and I’m perfectly OK with that. I’m into you. All of you, the total package.” He stroked her cheek. “Don’t you worry about that at all.”
They kissed again.
“I’ll see you in a few hours,” Chase said, and boarded the next maglev car as it pulled up. She watched him take a seat, still a bit wobbly, and then the train whisked him away.
A smile tugged at Rika’s lips, and she let it spread across her face. Have I found love? Was it just the alcohol, or does Chase really feel so strongly about me?
Though he didn’t start asking her to Krueger’s till she had a face, he had always been nice to her. But she had thought maybe he just had a fetish for mech girls.
She chuckled. Maybe he did, but his affection for her seemed genuine; if he got turned on by her machine parts, maybe that was just fine. They weren’t going anywhere soon, anyway.
A thought occurred to her about Chase’s invitations to the bar. Maybe he didn’t invite me before I had a face because I wasn’t able to drink! Was his change in behavior more to do with compassion, than an appreciation that was only skin-deep?
How did I stumble across someone so amazing in a place like Dekar?
Rika turned and walked back onto the docking ring’s main sweep, whistling a tune—so happy that even the thought of sixteen hours in Hal’s Hell couldn’t put a dent in her joy.
“Rika!” a voice called out from behind her, and she turned to see a dozen men and women approaching. The joy that had filled her so fully evaporated in an instant, replaced by dread.
These were Pierce’s enforcers.
“Pierce wants to see you,” one of the men said. “You’re late, and it’s time to pay up.”
“What? No!” Rika cried out, taking a step back. “I’m just a week late, and I get paid after my shift today! I’ll be square!”
“Too late,” one of the women said with a cruel grimace. “Come quietly. You may be tough, but we’re ready for you. Won’t be like when you fought Denny and his asswipes.”
Rika could see that. Every member of the group was armored and held serious weapons; not to mention net-casters.
She lowered her head and nodded. “OK, lead the way.”
“Good call,” The first man said, and the group formed a
box around her, marching her back to the maglev station.
They took a train halfway around the docking ring, then led Rika through a maze of corridors until they came to a manufacturing district.
Rika was led into a warehouse, past stacks of crates, to a small office along one wall. Standing in the entrance to the office was Pierce.
“Rika, Rika, Rika; what am I to do with you?” Pierce asked, her ruby-red lips pressed into a thin, disapproving line.
“Pierce!” Rika said. “I tried to tell your people I’m getting paid today. I was going to work a double to get enough money. You’ll get it today, I promise!”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Pierce said with a chuckle. “I know I will. Hal will turn over what pay is owed you, but your time slinging cargo is over. You see, you misread our contract.”
Rika frowned. The contract had been simple—just one screen. It had outlined the amount of debt, the transference from other lenders, and the payment schedule. What could she have missed?
“I can see that you’re confused,” Pierce chuckled. “And I’ll admit I did it deliberately. You see, there was a clause in there—a particular form of legalese used here on Dekar—that means if you fall more than a week behind…well…I own you.”
Pierce finished the statement with a broad smile and spread her arms wide.
Rika felt like she’d been hit by a tank. “Own?” she asked.
“Oh, yes, ‘own’. I gotta say, I love the Nietzscheans. They don’t endorse slavery, but they figure if you’re dumb enough to get made a slave, then that’s all you’re good for,” Pierce replied, and let out another throaty laugh before continuing. “Now, I normally don’t care for owning people. Messy business. People have all these needs, and you have to care for them, and the ones dumb enough to get made slaves usually aren’t worth it.”
Pierce stepped forward, her eyes walking down Rika’s body and then back up, boring into Rika’s eyes.
“But you…you are a prize worth having. An SMI-2 scout mech. Top of the line. Sure, you don’t have a lot of your military hardware anymore, but you have the internal mods and augmentations. I know; I saw the recordings of the fight with Denny and his pack of morons. You’re not a woman, honey; you’re a weapons platform. One that people are willing to spend top dollar to get their hands on.”