by Bear Ross
Her Ascended friend held up a small spray bottle in his large hand close to her head. Vervor knew the shape of the aerosol, and clacked his fangs in joyous anticipation.
Jessica's eyes crossed as she tried to focus on the dispenser. She recoiled as a mist hit her face, rubbing her nose in tingling pain.
“Prath, what the void was that?” Kramer said. “Are you trying to—”
She stopped mid-sentence. Her sinuses became inflamed, and she snorted. She bobbled her head from side to side, trying to shake off the sensation, then glared at Prath.
“Buzzkill,” Kramer said, a shocked look on her face. “You used Buzzkill on me? Really?”
Prath pushed the door to Vervor’s shop open, walking past her. She entered, still rubbing her nose and wiping her eyes, which were now starting to stream.
“I thought I could trust you to stay sober,” Prath said, “but you proved me wrong before the last match. So, while you were recovering from your leg wound, I had the drone docs synthesize an antidote tailored to your particular system and addiction. If you wish to sneak around and be a drunk on the sly, well, I can counter the effect with... minimum side effects.”
Vervor chuckled in the background, his hands on his hips. Prath handed her a shop towel from a nearby bench, and she cleared her inflamed sinuses and tear ducts from the booze neutralizer.
“Oh, ape, that's gross,” Jessica said, throwing the soaked towel at Prath’s feet. “I hate this. This feels like my head's on fire!”
Vervor recoiled, and motioned for a Myoshan staff member to fetch the floor cleaning drone. The short reptilian saluted, then ran to carry out the shop owner’s unspoken orders.
“I hope it does,” Prath said. “I want you to remember that, the next time you try and sneak in a drink or two, or six, for good luck. You took a stupid risk at Berva Proxima, and it nearly got you killed.”
“Prath, I thought we worked this out at the bar? I thought we were okay?”
“We did,” Prath said, “until I found out that even as you promised me you were going to do better, you were lying about the number of beers you were drinking right in front of me. I'm done being your doormat, love.”
Kitos the technician appeared from behind a row of benches. He was eager to speak, and his four arms gestured in exhilaration. Prath motioned him to wait while he continued to talk to Jessica.
“So, from now on,” Prath said, shaking the spray dispenser, “you can drink as much as you want, pilot. I've got Mister Buzzkill, here, to help me keep you in line before a match, or around the shop. Otherwise, it's your life to drink away. I'm just the dumb, gullible ape trying to save it, to try and help you, for Jered's sake.”
Jessica's burning eyes narrowed.
“Are you sure you’re trying to help me,” Kramer said, new venom in her voice, “or are you just trying to make yourself feel better? Huh, Prath? Are…are you sure you're not just trying to compensate for sending my brother out to his death in a malfunctioning mech? You sure disappeared from the scene, real quick, after Jered died, huh?”
Kitos's fur and ears fell flat at the accusation. Prath looked wounded. Even jaded Master Vervor was surprised by the hate and pain the human female wove into her words. She was looking to dish out some pain, even if the target was Prath. Vervor could see from the Ascended’s shocked, traumatized face that her words found their mark.
Prath rolled up his scattered tools and walked past her without another word, without even looking at her. The Ascended told Kitos farewell, thanked Vervor for his time and effort, and headed towards the shop’s front security door.
Jessica stood, fuming, staring straight ahead while her crew chief gathered his things and left. Vervor buzzed the Ascended out, and the door closed quietly behind him.
Moments of strained silence passed. Kitos, still trying to catch her eye with one of his four hands, started to speak.
“Pilot, I-I have—” he said.
“Well, you certainly have a way with words, human,” Vervor said, talking over him.
“Just... just don’t talk to me, right now, spud,” Kramer said, using the soft slur for Vervor’s kind. “Just... leave me alone.”
“Pilot?” Kitos said, trying to get her attention.
“Don’t trouble yourself on that account, softskin,” Vervor snapped. “You just pushed away the only being who gave a damn about you on all of Junctionworld. I’m obligated to fix your armor, not be your cheerful companion or straighten out your wreck of a life.”
“Pilot Kramer, Master Vervor, there is something I-I think you both should see,” Kitos said, trying to interject between them.
“He’ll be back,” she said softly, her jaw tightening.
“Oh, I doubt that,” Vervor said, clicking his fangs. “Congratulations. I thought I was a crusty old thump, but I can see I still have a few things to learn.”
Kitos began hopping, trying to create a break in their conversation.
“Gate bless it, Niff, what?” Jessica said. Despite the harsh words, she wasn’t her normal, furious self, Vervor noted.
“I-I, oh, how does one say it,” the technician stammered, shocked that they both were now listening to him. “I-I may have found—”
“Family gods preserve us, Kitos, get to the root of it,” Vervor said, his two sets of eyes rolling, his arms crossed in impatience.
“I-I performed some initial tests on the new circuit growths, Master Vervor,” the Niff said. “Access was possible because new junctions are not coded to any specific gene-lock. I-I was able to access a security log sub-directory, and—”
“There’d better be a point to this,” Kramer said in a cold voice, pulling her humming vibroblade out of its boot scabbard. She pointed it at him more like an instructor’s baton than a knife. He gulped at the sight of the weapon, but continued.
“Before the match, Pilot Kramer,” Kitos said, his voice now sped up. “Your sibling, ident Pilot Jered Kramer. He was not the last being to access the Judah module. Internal service log shows Master Prath did pre-match checks right. Someone... someone else accessed the circuits after them both, though. It was masked in logs, but I-I was able to access through sub-directory. Not so.”
Kitos’s eyes bulged in fear at the vibroknife still in the upset human's hand.
“And? Who?” she said sternly.
The Niff gulped hard, his ears flattened against his skull.
“I-I identified the bio-access code of...” Kitos said, giddy fear in his voice, “of previous pilot of Judah logged into service directory of Arkathan battle computer, right before match. Bio-access code of... Solomon Kramer.”
The high-frequency knife chirped as it hit the shop floor.
Chapter Thirty
SIXTH GATE ZONE
VERVOR’S FABRICATION WORKS
“Solomon Kramer,” Jessica Kramer repeated her father’s name back to Kitos. “My dad. You're saying he... he was the last one to access Judah? But... but, Jered stole Judah from Poppa. He...?”
Her face was gray, as gray as when they pulled her from the cockpit after the last match.
The Niff technician, Kitos, swallowed hard and nodded, the nervous joy in his huge eyes now replaced by fear. The vibroknife continued to rattle and dance on the floor next to them. His glance tried to stay fixed on her, but kept darting to the jittering blade.
“I-I make no conclusions, only wish to inform, Pilot Kramer,” Kitos said, “especially when agitated emotional state and weaponry are present. I-I only report findings from data. More information is required to form solid report.” The blue, four-armed being wrapped his lower pair of appendages around his midsection.
“I'm not going to kill you, Niff,” Jessica said. “I need to know. What's it going to take?”
“It's going to take a circuit dive, Pilot Kramer,” the shop owner, Vervor, said as he cleared his throat. “You're the bio-coded key to the Arkathan module. If you want more answers, you'll have to do it yourself. After you pick that up.”
&
nbsp; Master Vervor clicked off her dancing vibroblade with the deft touch of a toe claw, and kicked it over to her.
Jessica, still reeling from the effect of the anti-intoxicant spray, sniffed and rubbed her nose.
“I'm... sorry about before. I’m sorry I called you ‘spud.’ I just—”
“No need to explain, pilot,” Vervor said. “Just get done what you need to, to bring the command module up to speed.”
The Myoshan’s fangs clicked against each other at a rapid beat as they intermeshed, his signal for being deep in thought. Vervor gave his technician Kitos a hard look with his forward set of eyes.
“Solomon Kramer was the ident key on the log?” the short reptilian asked. “The Solomon Kramer? You're positive?”
“The records synch with previous entries,” Kitos said. “Service log entries go back for decades, Master Vervor. Last entry was blurred, but trace signals corresponded to previous entries. I-I checked and triple-checked. I-I wanted to make sure before I-I brought this up to Master Prath, but he... he left.”
Vervor's hard look shifted to Jessica.
“Hmmm... yes. That was not unexpected, but it happened sooner than I wished,” the Myoshan shop owner said. “The Ascended are a very patient race of sapients, but even they must have their limits.”
Jessica heaved an exaggerated sigh at his inference as she stooped to pick up her vibroblade. Vervor's small, claw-tipped forefinger shot out when they were at eye level.
“Don't,” Master Vervor said. “I've dealt with human body language before, primate. Master Prath tolerated your disrespect because of your past together. The situation has changed. You're a guest in my shop, at the behest of a valued client. You're here to do business, not act like a petulant choovah in its death throes.”
“Oh, yeah? What's a choovah?” Jessica asked. “It had better be something nice, something adorable.” A defiant look crossed her face as she snapped her blade back into its boot sheath.
“I don't have time to give you a lesson in Myoshan zoology, pilot,” Vervor said. “It's what you're acting like. Stop it. It's simple enough. Self-evaluate and fix it.”
“I'm going to do this circuit dive with the Niff,” she said, “and then I'm going to put 'choovah' in my data-search app, and I better like what I find, shopkeep.”
“Oh,” Master Vervor said, a prickly edge in his voice, “I'm sure, when you do, you'll be your usual fountain-of-joy self, human. You and choovahs are both very much alike in disposition. Either way, your feelings are the least of my concerns. I have a battle claw to work on for Masamune. Now, get to it, you two.”
“Actually, Pilot Kramer, choovah is small, fuzzy—” the blue technician started to say.
Vervor's clacking fangs and short snarl cut the Niff short. He shrunk away from the shop owner.
“I-I understand, Master Vervor,” Kitos said. “Please follow back to the test bench, Pilot Kramer.”
“So, what's a choovah, Niff?” she said, making sure Vervor wasn’t in earshot.
“I-I think we should concentrate on the task at hand, Pilot Kramer,” Kitos said.
“He called me a choovah,” she said. “Now, what's a choovah?”
“Hold still, please,” Kitos said, trying to ignore the question. “Please take seat. I-I need to calibrate this sensor ring to your skull shape, pilot.”
She laid back in a tattered, reclining chair next to the bench. The technician made adjustments to the array of instruments on the bench with one set of hands while he placed a large visor with the other pair. The wide, hood-like carapace covered her eyes and ears, and was a tangle of chords and wires.
“Ow, Kitos, this damn thing's pulling my hair,” she said, reaching up to grab the ponderous headset from the Niff's slender blue fingers. “Here, give me the—”
“Caution, pilot,” he tried to warn her. “Do not jostle against contacts on neuro-link. I-I already have Arkathan battle computer's module inputs engaged—”
Jessica's vision drained away, the sensation of her hair being pulled faded to nothing, and she blacked out.
Her eyes snapped open. She now stood in a small, gray room with a black border running around it at shoulder height. She couldn't breathe. Panic took hold of her as she clawed at nothing, fighting for air that didn't seem to be there.
“Biological interface synched. Stand by, Pilot Kramer,” said an ethereal version of Kitos's voice from somewhere overhead.
She gasped, like her lungs were unlocked and allowed to function. Her chest wasn't burning from oxygen deprivation, like back in the alley with Mikralos. It was like the act of breathing never happened before, until now. She checked her wrist. No pulse, either. Weird.
Jessica looked down. She was dressed in her fire-resistant pilot suit, but there was no helmet. Her cast was gone, and she was unarmed.
“What the void is this, Kitos?” She yelled at the smooth, featureless ceiling. There was no echo.
“Stand by, pilot,” Kitos said from somewhere far up above. “I-I am also making circuit dive.”
She must still be able to hear with her real, flesh-and-blood ears, but the sound was muffled, like a radio with the volume turned down to bare minimum.
Kitos materialized next to her, a shimmering composition of ones and zeros that shifted into solid form, blue fur and all. He was in his working coveralls.
“Apologies, pilot,” the Niff said. “You entered Arkathan maintenance interface before I-I could make final connections. Buffer calibration between physical body in the shop and mental processes in here was not complete. You did not suffocate long, I-I hope?”
“Long enough. That... that was not fun, Niff,” Jessica said. “A little warning would have been nice.”
“Next time, pilot,” Kitos said, “do not grab neuro-link from hands until I-I say so. Touchy contacts. Must fix.”
“Yeah, well, let's get this over with,” she said, “and hopefully there won't be a next time.”
“I-I agree. Double dives can be tricky,” Kitos said, “especially with rookie minds.”
“Rookie minds? Just wait a—”
He smiled, gestured with one of his lower hands, and a seat flowed up from the floor under Jessica. She dropped, surprised, onto the form-fitting chair.
A section of the floor in front of Kitos turned to a silvery pool, then it, too, began to flow and form into the shape of a contoured work bench covered with displays.
“Pilot has her arena, I-I have mind, here,” Kitos said. “Niffs and Arkathans must have shared common ancestor. I-I do few things well. This one of them.” His large eyes were confident, devoid of their usual fear.
His four hands performed flicks and gestures with formations of lights around them, his gaze captured by whatever was scrolling in front of him on his workbench's digital surface. The gray walls of the small room brightened to white, then a swirling globe of holographic light appeared in front of them. It matched the console interface in her cockpit.
“No... NoName?” Jessica asked.
“Yes, This Unit is here, pilot,” the battle computer’s voice said. “Or, rather, you are here with This Unit. Bio-code recognized. Welcome, Jessica Kramer, of the Fourth-Gate Kramers.”
“Wow,” Jessica said.
“Yes, wow, indeed. Are the repairs on This Unit’s chassis going well? The damage was quite extensive from the last match. This Unit has a list of itemized suggestions—”
“Actually, NoName,” she said, a slight hesitation in her normally-confident voice. “I need help.”
“Help?” NoName asked. Even digitally, she blushed.
“Yeah,” Jessica responded. “I have... some questions. About the access logs. Kitos said I needed to be here to access the files behind the log entries, so... here I am.”
NoName’s globe of light blinked orange, then went back to its normal swirl.
“This Unit evaluated Technician Kitos's inquiries during his previous dive,” the computer’s voice said. “Now that Pilot Kramer’s presence is verif
ied, This Unit’s access to the full-service logs is unlocked. Suggestion: Jessica Kramer should curtail pursuit of this line of inquiry. Per previous instructions: some questions are better left... unasked.”
A loud, hollow thump echoed through the detail-less ceiling above them. Kitos and Jessica looked at each other, both puzzled by the sound. The digital avatar of Kitos shrugged at her with both sets of shoulders, then turned back to the swirling globe.
“I-I have a question, computer,” the Niff said. “Readings on digital display show 87% nominal performance, per Arkathan standards. I-I now have internal diagnostics readout access. Readings show only seven of eight main command nodes are present. Were you aware of this?”
“Confirmed,” NoName said.
“Function of missing node?” Kitos asked.
“Missing node’s auxiliary controls: fine motor tuning and logic functions,” NoName said. “Primary controls: main weapons.”
Jessica pressed her hand along the side of her head. Oh, gates, no, she thought. Jered.
“Location of missing module?” Kitos said, scanning through the virtual data whirling in front of his large golden eyes.
“This Unit’s missing node is located here, in Junctionworld,” NoName said, “but remote contact is not possible at this time. Remote node is on minimum subsistence power. Exact location unavailable at this time.”
“I-I might be able to refine search, pilot,” Kitos said, turning to her, “given more time. Will not be easy.”
“See what you can do, Niff,” Jessica said. “NoName, when was the chunk of your module taken out?” Another deep boom sounded from the ceiling above them, accompanied by the faint sound of Myoshans shouting in their native language.
“Five years ago, Pilot Jessica Kramer,” NoName said. “Prior to scheduled death match at Berva Proxima Arena.”
Jessica took a deep digital breath, bracing herself.
“Who did it, Judah, er, I mean, NoName?” she said. “Ident of previous user? Was it Dad?”