by Robert Roth
“It’s rather striking, isn’t it?” asked the sales clerk, who’d managed to sneak up on her while she’d been gawking.
She glanced at them, then nodded. “It’s very nice, yeah. I’m looking for Marek?”
“Mx. Yanaka,” they replied. “Of course. Then you’re here to pick up your order? I trust everything will be to your liking. If you follow me, we can step back to the fitting area and make any last-minute adjustments.”
She was confused. “Adjustments?”
The clerk looked mildly embarrassed. “Gear such as this is custom programmed and fitted to the individual wearer, of course. The Kuījiǎ suit you ordered was made to the specifications your agent provided, so I imagine any adjustments will be minimal.”
They must’ve meant Paradox, of course. After he’d somehow divined her intent when she asked him to meet her here, he must also have planned for the new suit in advance, placing an order for something with her specs. She could hardly imagine where he’d managed to dig those up. It was hard for her not to feel a little coerced, but he was at least steering her into better gear and, hopefully, a new ship. Still, with the ticket to Davida, the Al-Zamani plans, the QED node, and the brand new, custom flight suit he was providing, she was definitely racking up the giri, like it or not. “Of course, my agent mentioned as much to me. Let’s try it on.”
The clerk led her to the back of the store, then through a subtly hidden hatch into a small, well-lit, mirrored, fitting room. Inside, hanging on a rack, was a limp, black, one-piece bodysuit along with a specialized chest harness and collar ring. “Here you are, Mx. Yanaka. Go ahead and try everything on. If you need any assistance, just ask the system to page me. And when you’re ready, let the system know to scan you for any adjustments you may need.”
She smiled but didn’t even look at them. She couldn’t take her eyes off of the flight suit. “I will. Thank you.”
The clerk closed the door behind her, leaving her alone. Looking over the suit, she marveled at the simplicity of the garment that hung before her, knowing the technological wonders hidden within it. While it didn’t look like much on the surface, it was light years ahead of the flight suit and jacket she usually wore.
After quickly stripping down to her undergear, she pulled the bodysuit from the rack and put it on, which involved stepping in through the neck hole. The suit accommodated her, stretching where necessary until she squeezed her legs in and could pull it up over her chest. The whole thing hugged her body like a second skin, and was lined with a material that felt so comfortable it was almost decadent. Next came the harness, which she slipped over her shoulders, then hooked together into a substantial clasp that sat just underneath her breasts. Then she wrapped the narrow collar ring around her neck and snapped it closed. Checking herself in the mirror, she saw only the tight, black bodysuit and slightly bulkier harness, and felt a little silly. But she knew the magic had yet to happen.
A small blue light was flashing in the center of the harness clasp. Kimiko reached up and pressed it, then felt a connection request between the suit and her P/N-interface. She accepted it, and a new menu blossomed to life at the edge of her vision. The suit menu. She selected Activate.
Inky blackness quickly spread from the harness, flowing out toward her hands and down toward her feet until it covered her completely. After just a few moments, it took the shape of the flight suit she’d seen in the holo-display, including gloves, boots, and slender, integrated armor plating. Despite its stiff appearance, it was light and flexible. She accessed the suit menu in her P/N-interface and activated her helmet. It unfolded from within the collar, assembling itself around her head, then sealed itself to the suit with a slight hiss. She stood in total darkness for a moment until a projection of the external view appeared in front of her. She took another look in the mirror. She looked and felt like a total badass.
The rest of the suit menu was simple and straightforward. The suit was tested and armor-rated for small arms protection, including both beam and slug weapons. It had a built-in micro-generator for extra defensive and rad shielding. There was also a built-in air recycler and a connector for an external air tank. It was a comprehensive piece of gear, she had to admit, flexing an arm just to see how it felt to move it.
She reached for her work jacket and pulled the QED node out of its pocket. The node was the only piece of equipment that she hadn’t brought to Davida herself. She needed to test it, so she tapped the input screen on top. The familiar connection request came through, and she accepted it. Allowing a hacker into her P/N-interface flew in the face of pretty much all of her usual safety rules. But, then, so did breaking into a high-security facility and stealing a top-of-the-line ship. Plus, she had the feeling that if Paradox really wanted to hack her, she wouldn’t have a chance to say no.
Kimiko felt it when the connection was in place. It was a curious sensation, similar in some ways to when she interfaced with a ship’s systems, as her awareness expanded beyond its normal range and the whispers of alien thoughts murmured in the background. Beyond the edge of the interface lay something of immense power, somehow both enticing and unsettling, and like nothing she’d ever experienced while interfacing before. Was that Paradox? She flicked a finger upward to activate her visual interface, and system graphics painted themselves into the edges of her view. Then she selected her comm from the menu and opened a private channel.
“Paradox?”
“Kimiko,” came the reply, almost instantly, and as clear as if he were standing in the room with her. “You’re testing the node, of course.”
He’d been expecting her, it seemed. The hacker really had her orbit well-plotted. “I am. This feels like a high-bandwidth connection.”
“It is. I can access your full sensorium if you allow it. I could certainly help you navigate the shipyard facilities more easily, that way.” There was a pause. “Although you may not feel that is necessary.”
She supposed that it wasn’t too strange of a request. She’d had full-sense riders before, as a pilot, back when she was racing. Selling sense-access was one of the best ways to finance a racing team outside of corporate sponsorship, after all. “If it can help, I don’t see why not.” She returned to her visual menu and selected her interface presence, then gave Paradox full-sense permissions, allowing him to access everything that she saw, heard, and felt, along with whatever biometric data her suit collected. “How’s that?”
“Ah, you’ve tried on the suit. Will it be acceptable?”
She smiled. “It’s perfect. I honestly don’t know what to say.”
“It was easy for me to arrange, and you must have the right tools for the job.”
She looked herself over in the mirrors again. “I’ll be honest, Paradox. If you keep showering me with gifts like this, I just might sleep with you when this is over.”
Kimiko immediately regretted saying that, but Paradox laughed, and she could almost feel his amusement. He must’ve been using his neural link, too, she realized, and she was getting some sense bleed-through from it. “I want to make sure that you succeed, and hacking into Practical Utility’s sales system to create a false order was child’s play.”
While that could’ve been another boast, Kimiko doubted it. Paradox sounded sincere enough when he said it. She wasn’t used to strangers being this generous to her without some sort of hidden motive. But Paradox’s motives weren’t hidden. He’d been very upfront about what he wanted, and why he wanted it. And all the demonstrations of his hacking prowess–like the shuttle ticket to Davida, and then the custom flight suit–had gone a long way to boost his credibility.
Kimiko had a sudden flash of memory, recalling the stories she’d been told as a child about kami–spirit entities that were another ancient belief of her ancestral people. Kami were a focus of Shinto and could be represented in the natural world by objects, animals, or even people. They could be helpful when appealed to and appeased. But they could also be mischievous and malevolent when angered.
Kimiko wasn’t a Shinto practitioner, and wouldn’t even know where to find a temple. But she still remembered hearing about it from her elders. And whether she believed in kami or not didn’t matter. Paradox certainly wasn’t the manifestation of an ancient spirit. Still, it was undoubtedly in her best interest to appease him by taking the new suit, if only to increase the chances for her operation’s success.
“You should run the system scan,” Paradox suggested, “although you’ll find that no adjustments will be necessary. But it will make the sales clerk happy.”
She laughed, then stuffed the QED node back into the pocket of her High Orbit Mechanical jacket. “I’m ready for the system scan,” she said aloud. Her helmet automatically transmitted her voice to an external speaker.
“Activating fitting scan,” said a synthesized voice that her helmet mic picked up and relayed to the internal speakers. “Please remain still.” The fitting room lighting dimmed, and then a set of low-powered pin beams painted a grid across her body. After a few moments, the grid disappeared, and the lighting returned to full power. “Scan complete. No adjustments are required.”
Just then, there was a discrete knock on the door. Kimiko turned around and opened it to reveal the eager face of the sales clerk. They excitedly looked her up and down. “You look marvelous. Your agent’s measurements were perfect. I can hardly believe it.”
She deactivated the helmet with a thought, and it swiftly collapsed and disappeared back down into the collar ring. “Will wonders never cease? Can you package this up for me?”
“Of course,” they answered, affably. “Just let me know when you’ve changed back into your clothing.”
Deactivating the suit was a breeze, although watching it disappear back into the harness gave her a moment’s pause. It took a little longer to get out of the bodysuit than to get into it, and putting on the clothes she wore when she’d come in afterward felt a little disappointing. But once she was sorted, she went back out onto the main sales floor and nodded to the clerk. They quickly disappeared into the fitting room to gather her new things. While she waited, she browsed some odds and ends set up near the sales counter. Most of it was garish and impractical–surprising considering the shop’s name. But a gorgeous, black, ceramic-composite knife caught her eye. It was a Nishimura Kanko, one of the finest quality blades on the open market. The ceramic was a proprietary composite, known for being light and nearly indestructible. But its top-selling point was its mono-molecular knife’s edge, which would cut through pretty much anything. It had a 15 cm blade–shorter than the tanto she’d trained on with Uncle Shinzo, but still long enough to be considered a combat knife. The grip would code to the owner’s biometrics or internal system, depending on their preference. It would also provide a nasty shock to anyone else who picked it up, courtesy of the built-in Ceresium micro-capacitor. The accompanying sheath stored the blade inside a mag-field, which kept the edge sharpened, and prevented it from cutting through the sheath.
“You have excellent taste, Mx. Yanaka,” gushed the clerk, noticing where her attention lay as they returned to the counter. “The Nishimura is a fine blade. And your suit can easily accommodate the sheath kit.”
There was no price displayed, of course. She was definitely in the kind of shop where, if you had to ask, you couldn’t afford it. And after complaining to herself about how expensive her drink in the bar was, it felt a little ridiculous to even consider it. But she couldn’t deny that she was. “There’s nothing quite like a Nishimura, is there?”
The clerk laughed politely. “We have several in stock at the moment. I can add one to your account if you like.”
Her account? Of course. It wasn’t like she was paying for the flight suit, either. She may as well have Paradox steal the knife for her, too. “Yes, I would like that.”
“Very good.”
The clerk disappeared from view again. Then, after a short wait, they returned with everything they’d packaged, handing it back to her inside of a matching sling bag that came with the suit. It also came with a custom, pre-filled air tank, a lifetime warranty, free adjustments at any Practical Utility shop or contractor when necessary, and free software upgrades for the life of the suit. After she turned down their request to sign up for the store’s insider marketing program, the clerk gave her their profuse thanks for her purchase, and she was on her way.
Walking out into the retail concourse, the gear bag slung over her shoulder, she felt as if all eyes were on her. Kimiko was glad she’d chosen to wear her own clothing. Walking around in the Kuījiǎ gear would only draw more attention from those who knew what it was or, at least, knew what it probably cost. Hell, she didn’t even know the actual cost. For all she knew, she could probably sell it all and live comfortably off of the proceeds for several months. Even the gear bag felt a little ostentatious, despite not being emblazoned with flashy graphics or logos like a lot of mid to high-end equipment tended to be. It was enough just to be carrying a Kuījiǎ, and the joes who recognized it would know it for what it was.
Her accommodations were one level down from the retail concourse, accessible by lift or stairs. Kimiko chose the stairs, since the lifts looked busy and it wasn’t very far down. The stairwell was empty. Most joes didn’t bother with them, and some, she imagined, didn’t even know they existed. The accommodations level was also quiet, if not totally empty. Banks of temporary lodging compartments branched off the main corridor in narrow passages as a no-frills alternative to the fancy corporate hotels on other station levels. They were much cheaper, too, and Kimiko wasn’t about to blow her remaining creds on some fluffy towels and turn down service.
She walked down the main corridor until she found the passageway where her compartment was located. Once she reached her door, Kimiko swiped her wrist ID over the input pad to unlock the sliding hatch. It slid open as soon as she was identified as the registered occupant, and she stepped inside.
Setting herself up as Kimiko Yanaka had been easy enough, with just a quick trip to a fixer she knew inside the CDB. After paying them a small fee, they’d created her new persona in the CDB system. As Paradox had mentioned, the legend was thin and would undoubtedly break under more than the barest scrutiny, but it worked well enough for her to get along with for the time being. And renting the compartment hadn’t raised any red flags.
Calling the space minimal would’ve been generous. There was just enough room inside for the single bed slab, a small storage locker, and a tiny head with the usual toilet/sink combo. She turned on the light and set her new gear down onto the bed slab. Then she dug into the gear bag, and took out her new knife. When she grabbed the handle, it paired immediately with her P/N-interface, then walked her through the setup process. In addition to the security system, she found that she could activate a tracer program, allowing her to locate the weapon if it was ever lost. She could also program the micro-capacitor to run its charge through the blade, electrifying it. Kimiko wasn’t sure why she would ever need that, but it was nice to know it was possible.
Once the setup process was complete, she grabbed the sheath with her other hand and carefully pulled out the knife. She turned it around, inspecting it from all angles. It looked even better than the store display. It had a nice heft to it, and was well balanced. She made a few experimental slashes in the air, careful to keep a firm grip on the handle since the knife would slice through her bed slab, and the frame that held it, and probably the decking beneath that, if she was ambitious enough. The thought brought an unexpectedly wicked grin to her face. She slid the tip back into the sheath, where the mag-field grabbed it and pulled it the rest of the way inside.
“Talk about bad-ass.”
Kimiko opened the storage locker and pulled her old gear bag out. It held the pilot gear, boots, and helmet she’d brought with her, along with her toiletries and an additional change of clothing. She set it all down on the bed slab next to her brand new gear and almost laughed at the differences between the two. Then her hand terminal chi
rped. She pulled it from her pocket to see a comm request from Ernesto, her shuttle pilot contact. She tapped the accept button, selecting voice only.
“Sup, Ernesto?”
“Just confirming our dinner date, Kimiko.” That was a good sign. He hadn’t shown any reluctance to help her when she’d initially made contact with him, but she’d allowed for the possibility that he would get cold feet at the last minute. Sneaking into the Shipyard facilities without his assistance wasn’t her ideal option, but it was still an option.
“I wouldn’t miss it for all the ore in the Belt,” she assured him.
“Of course. How does Flamin’ Ramen sound? There’s an outlet up on the far end of the retail concourse.” That would be easy enough for her to find. The ubiquitous noodle chain seemed to have shops everywhere from Luna to Titan. She’d even heard rumors of franchises opening on some of the largest mega-haulers, as silly as that seemed. But their noodles were always chewy, and the broth, as the name implied, was plenty hot. Plus, it was cheap.
“Sounds cosmic.”
“Okay, I’ll see you then,” he said before ending the comm connection.
She sighed and set her terminal down on the bed slab. Having a new flight suit meant she needed to figure out what to do with her old one. It had some sentimental value and was perfectly serviceable, but she really didn’t have room to carry it in her new flight bag, since it was too bulky. And she definitely didn’t have space to bring along her old helmet and boots. She could dispose of it all there at Davida, she supposed, or just leave it behind in the compartment, which was essentially the same thing. But she didn’t want to get rid of it. She’d flown billions of kms in that jacket. It felt like a part of her, and wearing her new, nanotech suit almost felt a little bit like cheating. But she couldn’t afford to be too sentimental, either. She had to stay focused on her operation. Eventually, she settled on shipping it all back to Kenji in Motherlode.