But, they'd left Isellia alive. Big mistake, Isellia thought to herself.
She watched from her XR in its hiding spot in a pool of pink-blue cloud, as the scoundrel’s ship emerged. Exactly as she thought it would, the ship flew past the other two darkly painted XRs, turned a wide arc and joined the other three in formation, facing the cargo ship.
She thought about when she should attack, but when she saw the cargo vessel start to power down, a sign of surrender, she left tactical thought behind.
Porter, that idiot, needed her. Someone needed her. And she needed that.
Isellia grasped the throttle and slowly pushed it forward, sending a surge of power through the ship's hull. The hum filled the ship's interior, the lights powered just a little more, and Isellia prepared for battle.
She sent the ship blasting straight toward the three XRs. She didn't even think about the odds, or the difficulty of facing off against three armed XRs, or the clenching nerves in her stomach. She knew what she needed to do, and she was ready to blast those dummies out of the sky.
Unfortunately, they were ready for her.
***
The green glow of the robot's lights powering on cast a hue throughout the back room of the workshop. Mr. Twitters and Joey both watched it wide-eyed, faces lit green, each possibly less sure than the other of what would happen next as the robot began looking around the workshop room, taking in its surroundings.
"Cool," Joey said, breathless.
The robot, at the sound of Joey's voice, turned to him. It stood up, in that angular way robots had of moving, and in one motion stood in front of Joey with its ROU unholstered and at its side, pointed in Joey's direction.
"Easy," Mr. Twitters said in a calm voice. "Prohibere. Salutem."
The robot didn't move a servo, but continued scanning Joey. Mr. Twitters raised his eyebrow inquisitively as he watched the machine, but he appeared unconcerned that the robot would harm either of them.
Joey looked at the robot with a mix of wonder, excitement and fear. Any boy of his age would be fascinated with this mechanical creature in front of him, and for Joey, who already held a deep interest in robotics, the experience overwhelmed him.
"Relax, young man, it won't hurt you. Or at least, I'm pretty sure it won't," Mr. Twitters touched a frayed end on its arm. "Looks like you have seen some danger, my friend."
The robot's head swiveled toward Mr. Twitters. "Danger has presented itself. It has been eliminated."
"There's no danger here," Twitters said. "You are amongst friends. Salutem et amicitia."
"Acknowledged."
"What are you saying to him?"
"It," Mr. Twitters remarked. "I'm telling it that it is safe, and that we are friends."
"Is that robot talk?"
Mr. Twitters chuckled. The robot in one smooth motion withdraw its ROU and re-holstered it. "Well, it is now, at least for these bots. It's from Old Earth, Latin. There were once many languages spoken on Old Earth. Not like these post-colonial days."
"Woah, and robot knows them all?"
"Only Latin," Mr. Twitters said. "We used it because it's a dead language. No one is speaking it anymore, it's not evolving, or growing, or changing, like a living language does. We used certain Latin words as a code. Does that make sense?"
"Uh-huh."
"OK. Now, it can speak almost any living language around the galaxy. Which comes in handy."
"Wow," Joey said in wonder. "Well, you're safe with us, robot!"
Mr. Twitters opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by a banging on the front gate. It jarred the old man, because it had been years since he'd last received a visitor. He took a side-glance at the robot and decided he had a pretty good idea what it was about.
"Joey, do you remember that super secret storage room I showed you?" Mr. Twitter said.
"Yeah," Joey said. "You want us to hide?"
Mr. Twitter paused. Had Joey figured it out? What the knock was for?
"Take the robot there Joey. Both of you need to be silent. I will come get you later. Robot: Joey oboedire."
The robot's LEDs blinked twice, signifying its agreement.
"Now, let's go see what these folks want."
***
Isellia didn't see the fourth XR until it bore down at her, lasers firing. Isellia's reactions were quick — she was the daughter of Wallace, after all — and she flung the throttle forward, just in time to miss the main volley of lasers that would have left her dead in a hollowed out piece of scrap metal. A stray laser caught the tail of her ship, sending a trail of smoke behind her.
"Shit!" she yelled, slamming her fist on the dashboard. The element of surprise was gone — it had gone to the other side instead. The other three XRs were preparing an attack formation. Four against one.
Hardly a fair fight … for them, she thought, psyching herself up.
Isellia didn't waste any time, barrel rolling to avoid another volley of lasers blasted her way. She manuevered herself into a wide arc and she barreled toward them, rolling herself into a position just beneath the XRs. She charged up toward them from below, lasers firing at full blast. Three attackers became one as she caught two of them with her fire, sending them into a fireball explosion. She checked her monitors: the other ship had gotten itself into position on her tail.
She flew straight toward the remaining ship, hoping to draw its fire toward the rear attacker, or at least stop the attack by flying the chasing ship toward friendly fire. Both paused their attack as they passed each other, keeping themselves safe and giving Isellia a break from avoiding attacks. She had to think quickly, because she was still outnumbered — and whoever was tailing her was a much more experienced pilot than the others. The other three, it was clear, hadn't seen many dogfights. This other person absolutely had.
Instead of laser fire, a hail came from the other ship. She punched the button under the small screen (she couldn't afford one of those in-console holo units).
"Hey sugar," the scruffy, blonde-haired man said. "How's about you surrender?"
"How's about you eat my laser, pretty boy?"
"Hu-ho, spunk. I like it. Tell you what, doll-face: How about we drop this silly battle already? There's a couple of open spots on my crew now, and you obviously can handle yourself. Plus maybe you can decorate or something."
Isellia made the point of pretending to puke all over her console. "I'm sorry, I just got sick to my stomach."
"Making me like you even more, doll-face," the man said, grinning. "Tell you what, we’ll make you a real business partner. You and I. Fifty-fifty, minus the others’ cuts. There's good money and we're about to have ourselves a cargo ship for a home base."
Isellia looked at the cargo ship, barely visible from where they'd flown to during the battle. Then she saw it. Her chance.
"So, 50/50? Split everything down the middle?"
"That's right, cute stuff. Right down the middle. After we pay our employees, which, only one of those left right now, thanks to you."
Just a little farther, Isellia thought. "And, what kind of work are we talking? That you need a cargo ship for."
"Doll-face! Come on, you can figure it out, can't you? I mean, there are plenty of chances for a transporter crew, but the more lucrative ones, well, they're the ones that want something shipped can't be shipped through normal channels. Catch my drift?"
Isellia had flown to the point where she wanted. They were both on her tail at this point. "Oh perfectly, pretty boy." And then she disappeared from both of their radars.
The man looked around. He couldn't figure out where she'd gone. A few moments of silence passed as both he and the other pilot scanned the horizon. They were in a field of nebula, but this particular area seemed to be clear. Unless...
"Heads up, pretty boy!" Isellia yelled, her XR barreling down on the scruffy man's XR from slightly behind.
"How the —" was all the man got off before his ship exploded as a galley of lasers tore through his hull.
The other pilot had taken the cue, and had spun away. He was flying the opposite direction of the cargo ship, seemingly taking a wide arc toward the planet they'd just come from. Isellia toyed with going after him but decided against it. Her fuel was low enough as it was.
The hailing light blinked on her console again. She flicked the switch into an on position.
"Whoever this is, this is the captain of the cargo vessel. On behalf of the entire ship, we're grateful for your assistance. If you want to come on board, we can help you fuel."
"Great, I need it. Send me the landing guide coordinates and I will patch it in."
Isellia followed the navigation signals as they guided her toward the ship, and toward her new life.
***
Mr. Twitters instantly recognized the all-black uniform on the men at his door: black loafers, a light black, long-sleeved shirt and a black baseball style hat that the man standing at his door wore. Those behind him were Company soldiers; they wore military fatigues of the same black color. They appeared unarmed — likely an order because they were dealing with Mr. Twitters — but Twitters knew better. Those BDUs likely hid weapons of some kind.
"Good morning, sir," said the foremost man, early morning light shining in behind him. He seemed to be perpetually sneering, even while trying to be affable.
"What can I do for you?" Mr. Twitters asked.
"I've come to ask for your assistance."
"I don't see how I might help a mining operation, but go ahead."
"Well, it just so happens we’re not here for help with mining. In fact, it's in your field of expertise: Robotics."
"Well, I think my deal with your bosses was quite clear. I can not provide any robotics services to Company C. In fact, I believe it was your bosses who insisted on it."
Twitters stared directly at the man while saying this, emphasizing the word “bosses.” The man squirmed a bit at the utterance, not able to fully mask his irritation.
"We're not here for that, Mr. Twitters. It's a robot we're tracking. We think it might have wandered this way. Perhaps you'd have seen it?" The man let his stare linger on Twitters.
"I'm afraid not. How are you tracking it? Shouldn't you be able to pinpoint it easily? You have the tools for that."
"Unfortunately," the man said, looking back at the two soldiers, "it appears to be one of those that are untrackable. You know. One of yours."
The man let the statement linger. Mr. Twitters returned his stare blankly.
"Well, of course you know then it is untrackable. I designed them that way."
"Yes, indeed. A most curious design flaw," the man said, craning his neck to see past Twitters.
"It wasn't a flaw," Twitters said matter-of-factly.
"I'm sure. Would you mind if we look around? Perhaps it wandered in here and is hiding amongst all this rubbish."
"I haven't seen it. I would have, had it come here."
"Yes, well, if we could just—"
"I believe that would be a violation of our agreement, yes? And don't forget, there are consequences to violating that agreement."
The man couldn't hide his anger for a moment, and Mr. Twitters knew he'd won. "You'd really risk such a thing? Setting off all those robots?"
"We have an agreement, and I expect it to be kept."
The man looked at his soldiers, who stood perfectly at attention the entire time. They had discipline, that's for sure, Twitters thought. Their boss could take a cue from them.
"Very well. But if you see this robot, I expect you will report it to us at once. It could be a danger to the colony. I assume you don't want to bring danger to a group of innocent people?"
"I would do no such thing. I will let you know if I see such a dangerous machine."
"Good." The man turned on his heels, a sharp about-face, and marched off, the soldiers following him.
A few moments after they left, Joey stood next to Mr. Twitters, who watched them leave. "Are they right? Is the robot dangerous?"
"Only to the wrong people, if I'm correct."
***
Isellia opened the cockpit door, the hatch flipping upward and locking into place. She looked around the launch bay. It wasn't much to see — a couple of workstations, a set of tools that must have been left behind by Mr. Blonde Scruf, and a lot of wide-open space. It was her space now, she thought. It's perfect.
The garage-like door opened on the far side of the room and a tall, heavy man she hadn't seen before, followed by Porter, walked over to her ship. She still had post-flight checks to make, so she grinned and waved at them briefly before continuing her cool-down checks. The sound of the engines winding down filled the cargo bay.
"Heck of a performance," the big man said. His voice boomed as it echoed off of the bay's interior.
Isellia looked down at him from on top of her ship, her face peering over the top of its hull. "Didn't have much choice. It was them or me."
"I didn't expect such a young face to greet me," he said, crossing his arms in front of him. "I wouldn't have thought you were old enough to pilot that thing at all, had I seen you without knowing any better!" Normally people making reference to her age irritated Isellia, but the man followed it by a laugh that was so infectious she couldn't help but smile.
"I'm full of surprises," she said, smiling back. She noticed Porter wasn't.
"I'm Captain Carl. Welcome aboard. Need us to take you anywhere?"
Isellia looked at the captain for a moment, eyeing him up and down. She looked at Porter, who watched her with anticipation. "Yes, my quarters. I'm your new XR pilot."
"Ha ha ha!" The Captain was doubled over with laughter, as Porter looked nervous. "I like this one, she's got spunk!"
"We'll take you back to Fursuella," Porter said, "this is no place for a kid."
Isellia seethed, giving Porter an angry look, but it was the Captain who spoke. "Hey now, this kid can handle herself. And we need an XR pilot. What's the difference? Plus, about time we had a girl on this crew. Too much testosterone!" He smacked Porter in the chest playfully, but Porter had to steady himself from losing his balance from the Captain’s crashing blow.
"Captain, with all due respect, you said I would choose our XR pilot," Porter said, crossing his arms in front of him.
"Yeah, good job so far!" Isellia said, waving her hand at the area of space where they fought. "Those clowns tied me up when they caught me spying on them. But I escaped and came here to save your butt. I think you chose wrong!"
Porter started to speak but closed his mouth and looked away.
"Well, she's got you there!" the captain walked up to the XR, resting his forearms on its hull as he looked up at her. "Just let me make sure — you sure you're ready for a life in space? Once we go, it's not like you can just change your mind. You can leave any time, theoretically, but we're gonna spend a lot of time outside the range of someplace your little ship can take you. I don't mind taking you on, but life on a spaceship ain't exactly most teenage girls' idea of fun."
She looked down at him seriously. "I spent my whole life on a spaceship, except for the time in the circuit. It's not a big deal."
She and the captain stared at each other for a long moment in silence. Finally, he pushed himself off the hull. "Well, looks like we got ourselves a new XR pilot! Tonight we celebrate! Porter, show her to her quarters. We'll get you started with some duties tomorrow — this ain't no free ride!" The Captain bowed slightly as he left.
Porter saluted. "Aye, captain."
Isellia flipped off her last switch on the console, checking that the dials all read "0." She stood up and hopped over the side, catching a small step and guiding herself down to the cargo deck.
She confidently strode over to Porter, who stood with his arms crossed looking at Isellia nervously.
"Hey, don't worry," Isellia joked, "You'
ll learn to love me!"
Porter shook his head. "Don't you get it? I do like you. I think you have a bright future. That's why I don't want you on this ship."
"What? That doesn't make any sense!"
"You think this is a place where people make their dreams come true? This is where people end up when they've lost them."
"Well, I haven't lost mine. I'm still going to be the greatest XR pilot ever! But it takes money and I don't have any. I don't have a choice! At least I'm using my piloting skills, not working in some factory or something."
"A kid your age shouldn't even have to worry about that," Porter nodded.
"Well, I do! So there. Life isn't what you wish it was, it's what it is."
"Wise words. Where you hear that?"
"My father. He was the greatest pilot ever, but I'm going to be better!"
"Sounds like you have some wishes after all."
"I don't wish for things, I work for them."
Porter looked at her for a moment. It saddened him that someone her age needed to be so pragmatic and world-weary.
"Come on, let's get you to your quarters quickly. Mess hall starts soon."
Isellia followed Porter with a grin and a bounce in her step. She was in.
***
"Well, let's see what you got here young man," Mr. Twitters said, peering through the repair port on the robot's front side. Joey watched as Mr. Twitters inspected each circuit, examining them with his testing tool. He used it like a pointer, running it along the circuit wires, touching the solder points with it and, of course, actually testing the circuits. The inside cast a green glow across his glasses and white beard.
"Not bad, Joey," Mr. Twitters said. "A little crude in places, and your soldering doesn't match up with the original plate-soldering, but we can't help that, can we? Since we don't have a plate solder gun."
"I wish! I'd like to try that!"
Mr. Twitters chuckled. "If I could afford one, I would probably buy one. They make for a much more pleasing aesthetic."
Robot Awareness: The Inner Circle Page 19