34 minutes into a 35-minute trip, a hollow ping sounded overhead, followed by the pleasant voice of the train’s AI operator. “We will arrive at the Houston Spaceport in one minute. Please gather your belongings and prepare to exit the train. We hope you enjoyed the trip and wish you the very best as you venture to your final destination.”
“Meow,” Ross said from the carrier in Max’s lap.
“We’re almost there, buddy. Hang tight.”
As the train decelerated, Houston’s skyline came into a non-blurred view. Massive shimmering skyscrapers filled the window, many over a hundred stories tall. An intricate network of sky bridges connected the buildings at random intervals, creating an enormous metallic web. A constant stream of commuter shuttles passed in between the structures, servicing the towering pillars of commerce. The faces of countless residents came into focus as the train slowed to a stop. Elegant suits and cutting edge fashion mingled upon a maze of seamless walkways. Hover carts and robotic assistants followed their owners in and out of boutiques. Automated machines with spidery appendages scrubbed external surfaces and pruned beds of foliage. With his eyes fixated on the churning cityscape, Max failed to notice that most of the train passengers had exited.
“The next stop will be the Atlanta Subport with an ETA of 40 minutes,” the AI said.
“Shit!” Max jumped to his feet and slipped through the sliding doors just before they closed. “Whew, that was a close one. Got to pay better attention.”
“Meow,” Ross said in agreement.
The train departed without a sound, leaving them alone on the elevated platform. Max adjusted his backpack and stepped out from underneath the station awning. The warm summer sunshine tickled his face and shoulders, prompting a sigh of satisfaction, then a pucker of confusion.
“Wait, shouldn’t it be blistering hot, wretchedly humid, and all-around miserable this time of year? And where’s the smell? Last time I was in Houston, it smelled like the sweaty crotch of a sumo wrestler.”
“Meow,” Ross said, explaining that the combination of clean, renewable energy and atmospheric conditioning kept most of the planet at a balmy 70 degrees.
Max walked to the end of the platform, tromped down the exit stairs, and emerged into a perpetual promenade. Glancing in both directions, he examined the seamless plane. One end disappeared into the city center while the other delved into a suburban jungle. A multitude of jubilant citizens hiked upon its surface, flowing between a vast network of soaring buildings. Planting strips lined the walkways, giving life to colorful bouquets of flowers and a variety of fruit trees. A random passerby plucked a fresh orange on their way to a mystery destination. Following their lead, Max plucked a large red apple from a nearby tree and sank his teeth into one of the most delicious pieces of fruit he had ever tasted. Pausing to savor the realization, he closed his eyes to chew.
As he crunched on the sweet flesh, a dull rumble snaked across the polished concrete. Startled, he spun around before lifting his gaze to the sky. An ascending spaceship broke from the Houston skyline and pierced the clouds. A fluffy exhaust trail poured from the bright yellow glow of two massive engines. The awesome reality of the situation sent chills down his spine. As the liftoff rumble faded, his gaze returned to the city. He traced a wall of glass down to the glowing red logo of the Houston Spaceport entrance about 50 meters away. A toothy smile stretched across his face as a flock of butterflies munched on the apple bits in his stomach.
“Are you ready for this, buddy?” Max said.
“Meow,” Ross said, noting his indifference.
Max tossed the apple core into a nearby compost bin and proceeded towards the large glass doors in the distance. Arriving at the entrance, he yanked one of the doors open and stepped into an empty lobby. The hum of a vibrant city faded into the background as the door closed behind him, leaving him alone in a sea of white. The excitement faded from his face as he surveyed the large domed room. Greek-like pillars lined the back wall, serving to highlight the plain, featureless check-in desk resting in front of them. A bright red pillar stood behind the desk. After a lengthy squint, Max confirmed it as human.
“Greetings, traveler,” the pillar said with a charming Southern accent. “Welcome to the Houston Spaceport.”
“Um, hello,” Max said, taking slow steps forward.
As he approached the lonesome desk, the features of a middle-aged woman appeared. Aside from her face, hands, and curly brown hair, every inch of her body hid beneath a fierce red uniform. Max stared at the absurd chef-like hat that clung to her head. A logo pin completed the ensemble.
“My name is Annabelle. How may I help you today?”
“I would like to purchase a one-way ticket to Centauri Station.”
“Yes sir, I can help you with that.” Lightning-fast fingers pecked at a keyboard hidden behind the desk, her puckered smile never breaking its cemented form. “Alrighty then, the next shuttle will be departing in approximately one hour. You will have a brief layover at Mars Spaceport B before departing for Centauri Station. Will that do?”
“Perfect. And how long is that trip?”
“You should arrive at the Mars port in about two hours, then—”
“Wait ... two hours? How is that even possible?”
“Well, sir, per regulation, our shuttles can only legally travel at one-tenth light speed, so it takes a little while.”
“A little while? They can go even faster?”
“Not legally, no. Once you arrive at the Mars port, you will transfer to a cruiser that will also taxi at one-tenth light speed until it passes Neptune’s orbit. Only at that point can the craft jump to hyperspace. Standard policy.”
Max stood motionless, once again with mouth agape.
“Sir, are you okay?”
“Yes, sorry.” Max cleared his throat. “Just a little tired I guess.”
“And I see you will be traveling with an adorable pet companion today?”
“Meow,” Ross said, confirming the question.
“Yes, and I understand there’s a fee?”
“Yes sir, a modest fee that covers the cybernetic body along with consciousness transfer and the first month of cryogenic storage. If you wish to continue past one month of storage, then we will need a credit account on file.”
Max added a pair of scrunched eyebrows to his baffled stare and dangling jaw. As his brain struggled to process the last few sentences, it decided to send a placeholder to his mouth. “Uh ... what?”
“Oh, I do apologize. The monthly maintenance account is a new policy.”
“No, um, I mean, I can’t just bring him with me as is?”
“No sir. Pet travel falls under cluster regulation prohibiting non-humanoid creatures from venturing into space. This prevents the possible spread of communicable diseases. Pets are required to utilize artificial bodies while traveling off-planet.”
Max stared at Annabelle as if she had just described the nuances of quantum physics.
“Meow,” Ross said, apologizing for his doltish owner.
“Wow, um ... I just, okay.” Max took a deep breath and tried to expel the awkward tension. “So, um, how does that work?”
Annabelle huffed and blinked her eyes a few times too many. “Sir, I do not have time to explain the intricacies of cybernetic transfer.”
Max glanced around the still empty room. “But I’m the only one here.”
Annabelle, her pursed smile now sans smile, let out a disgruntled sigh. She leaned to the side and peered over Max’s shoulder in hopes of uncovering a mounting line, but found no such luck. She sneered at Max, then lowered her gaze to the monitor. A hologram video feed appeared above the desk after some heavy finger pecking. With an over-exaggerated arm drop, she pressed a final key.
A pleasant jingle sounded as a plain-suited man blinked onto the screen. “Greetings, traveler. Welcome to CounterPet Incorporated, the leading experts in pet-based cryogenics.” A comical rendition of a dog and cat appeared on the screen, smili
ng and playing as the narrator continued his spiel. “Here at CounterPet, we take excellent care of your furry friends while you are away. Our advanced cryogenic facility protects and stores your pet’s physical body while its consciousness lives on inside a cybernetic replica.” Colorful pop-up diagrams appeared in manners that would please a small child. “Our patented 3D printing technology can assemble your replica in a few short minutes, all while you wait. And when you return from your trip, we simply transfer the consciousness back to the physical body. You can even keep the cybernetic shell as a nifty souvenir. Feel free to ask your travel agent for more details. CounterPet, keeping your companions close.”
The hologram blinked away before the outro melody completed, revealing the irritated face of Annabelle. “Will that be all, sir?”
“Meow,” Ross said, eager to get the show on the road.
Max, his face now wearing a confounded expression, could not help but blurt out the one burning question on his mind. “Can humans do that?”
Annabelle tightened her face. “Do what?”
He pointed at the empty space above the desk as if the video was still streaming. “The cyborg thing.”
“No, of course not. It’s against cluster policy.”
“Why?”
“Is it not obvious?”
“Apparently not,” Max said, lowering his eyelids to half-mast.
“Let’s just put it like this. Think of the stupidest person you know. For many, I’m sure that’s you. Now make them Iron Man.”
“Oh.” Max glanced away in defeat.
“So, once again, will that be all?” Annabelle’s widened eyes hurled daggers at Max, conveying a complete lack of patience.
Max lifted the carrier and peeked inside at Ross, who had taken the opportunity to catch a nap. A grin lifted from Max’s chin as his buddy rolled onto his back and stretched his legs into the side of the carrier. “Yes, let’s do this.”
“Very good, sir. Now, if you would please look at me for a moment.”
Max responded with a blank stare.
Annabelle sighed and lifted an iris scanner. After a ping of acceptance, her annoyed gaze fell to the monitor. Furious hands input all the necessary info. “I assume you would like English as a default?”
“For what?”
Annabelle rolled her eyes. “For your cat.”
“Wait, what? He’ll be able to speak?”
She glanced away for a moment, as if to relay disgust to a nonexistent colleague. “Of course. All CounterPets come with language capabilities. You get one free default with the option to add more for extra fees.”
“English will be fine.”
Annabelle returned her gaze to the monitor and pecked her keyboard with a mounting agitation. “Would you like an accent for a small fee?”
Max burst into laughter, causing Annabelle to flinch. “Now you’re just messing with me.”
She glared at Max with the icy stare of a serial killer.
His chuckle shrunk into the lowered chin of a chastised child. After a moment of contemplation, a half-smile crept up his cheek. “Um, British please.”
Without a word, she input the rest of the required info. “Oh, for pity’s sake.” Annabelle huffed with peak irritation. “I regret to inform you that the Mars pattern is full for the next several hours. We can, however, reroute you through Europa with a 10-hour layover. You will not lose too much time, if you wish to depart within the hour.”
“Europa? As in Jupiter’s Europa?” A toothy smile filled his face, but slammed shut when confronted by the angered death stare of Annabelle. “Yes, that will be fine.”
She entered the final confirmation. “Okay sir, you have been checked in for your trip to Centauri Station. Now, if you would be so kind as to take your pet to the waiting area behind this wall, a CounterPet representative will meet you with further instructions. On behalf of everyone here at the Houston Spaceport, I hope you have a safe and wonderful trip.” Annabelle offered a smirk of conclusion that in no way matched her cold stare.
“So how do I—” Max said, but Annabelle’s widening eyes cut him off. “Nevermind. Thank you.” Max lowered his gaze to the ground and walked around the corner.
“Meow,” Ross said, thanking her for the assistance.
* * *
“That is Jai Ferenhal?” Perra said, lowering her voice to a harsh whisper.
“In the flesh,” Zoey said.
“He’s coming this way.”
“Listen.” Zoey’s voice dropped into a commanding tone, snapping Perra to attention. “Whatever happens, let me do the talking. Do not engage with him in any way. If things get stirred, I want you to get back to the ship and make for Marcoza. I’ll catch up with you there. Understand?”
“Y—yes.” Perra bowed her head and took a deep breath.
“Well if it isn’t Zoey Bryx and her little whore,” Jai said in a gruff voice as he sauntered up to the booth. He swirled the drink in his hand, clinking ice cubes against the stumpy glass.
“Jai,” Zoey said with a flat tone. She lifted a sharpened gaze to the grinning brute.
Perra sat still with her head lowered. Jai looked her up and down, huffed in disregard, then parked next to her in the booth. His muscular frame pushed her into the window, prompting a faint whimper. Zoey never broke eye contact.
“Thanks for the drink,” Jai said to Zoey, taking a sip of his expensive cocktail. “Although, I would have appreciated something else.”
“You have no claim to that particular something.”
“Says you. Lord Essien says differently.”
Zoey’s lower lip dropped open for a split second.
Jai noticed and smirked. “So, The Omen can flinch.”
“You’re working for Essien?”
“What can I say, she made me a lucrative offer.”
Zoey leaned back in the booth, crossed her arms, and tightened her face in disgust. “You know, I can understand someone like you betraying the PCDS. I can even understand, to a point, you joining the Veiled Traders. But to work for Essien? What in the ‘verse went wrong for you to end up under that psycho’s thumb?”
“Does it matter? Business is business.”
“No.” Zoey shook her head. “You have taken this to an entirely new level.”
“Regardless, my sweet, Essien wants a piece now.” Jai took another sip and hardened his glare. “So, you need to deliver, or face the consequences.”
Perra lifted a worried gaze to Zoey, who urged her to remain calm with a subtle gesture.
“That deal is done,” Zoey said. “You know that.”
“Then undo it.” Jai tossed back the remainder of his drink and clanked the empty glass upon the table. “Don’t care how.”
“And if I can’t?”
“Then you can tell Essien herself. She will arrive in half a poch.”
Zoey’s eyes widened. “Essien is coming here?”
“You have until then to make arrangements.” Jai caressed Perra’s thigh as he lifted from the booth, causing her to recoil. He straightened his suit jacket and sneered at Zoey. “Also, if you’re thinking of doing something stupid, like leave, know that we have three assault ships in orbit with a lock on that pitiful excuse for a freighter.” Jai winked at Perra, then turned and exited the bar.
CHAPTER 7
Max knocked his knees together from the confines of an uncomfortable plastic chair. The molded white butt-cup and its wobbling metal legs seemed to struggle with his below-average weight. Every movement creaked and scraped upon the cold linoleum floor. An invisible cloud of pungent chemicals assaulted his nose from every direction, creating the needless tension of a dentist’s office. His backpack bounced upon his thighs as his mind concocted a reasonable quiz. Before taking Ross into the rear facility, the CounterPet representative instructed Max to devise three personal questions that only he and Ross could answer, ensuring a successful transmission of consciousness.
“They’re almost done,” said a young woma
n minding the reception desk. “Just another minute or two.”
Max nodded and allowed his eyes to wander around the simplistic lobby. A row of six matching chairs sat in front of a large clouded glass pane, separating the facility from the spaceport terminal. The low ceiling, with its diffused light and industrial paneling, served to exacerbate any feelings of claustrophobia. A basic and boring reception desk sat off-center along the rear wall, infecting the space with a callous indifference to interior design. A small picture frame atop the desk housed the company logo. The receptionist herself served as the only pop of color, her silky pink blouse and purple jacket reflecting off the clouded glass. Aside from a wall-mounted brochure rack, the entire room gave off an unsettling vibe of incompleteness.
A pair of faint voices echoed from the hallway behind the reception desk. As they neared the lobby, Max could distinguish between the representative and a somewhat familiar British accent.
“Oi, Max!” Ross emerged from the hallway and trotted across the room.
“Holy crap, hey buddy.” Max reached down to pet his furry companion, then lifted an astonished gaze to Kenneth, the smiling representative with balding red hair, starched white lab coat, and horn-rimmed glasses. “I can’t tell a difference. He feels just like he did before.”
“He is the cat he was before,” Kenneth said. “Think of it as transferring a hard drive from one computer to another. Everything that made the computer useful and unique has been retained. He just has better hardware now.”
“Speaking of which,” Ross said to Max. “Kenny gave me a whole bunch of useful info about maintenance, which, for the most part, is none at all. I can even generate my own energy through electromagnetic radiation.”
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