by Isaac Hooke
Surus nodded behind her faceplate, and fixed Rade with a stare that seemed full of gratitude. “It was a good thing your boss convinced me.”
“Yes, good for all of us,” Rade said. “We would’ve been walking into a trap set by a Phant without even knowing it.” He glanced at Lui. “Can you confirm the gravity levels?”
“They’re a match to the readings I gave in orbit,” Lui said. “We’re at ninety-eight percent of Earth gravity.”
“That’s why I feel so light on my feet,” Manic said.
“Feels the same to me,” Harlequin transmitted form the other ship. “At least relative to the artificial gravity aboard the Argonaut. The tension on my servomotors is approximately—”
“I was joking,” Manic interrupted. “Human sarcasm, Harlequin. You have to learn it if you ever hope to fit in with us.”
“Ahh,” Harlequin said. “I understand now. Let me try. My hands are so light, when I lift them, they feel like balloons!”
“Uh, leave the sarcasm to us humans, please,” Fret said.
Bender was laughing. “Man, you robots are entertaining as hell. Please, don’t say anything else Harley boy, you’re killing me here.”
Rade regarded the different external cameras to get a bead on the docking bay. He saw the other shuttles Tahoe had spoken of, various classes that resided within the designated landing zones, as indicated by the yellow circles and white crosshairs painted onto the deck and its rivets. About half of the parking spots were empty.
When the external atmosphere stabilized, a hatch irised open on the far side of the hangar. An enforcer robot emerged from the hallway beyond, escorted by two towering walker units. About the size of an average human being, the enforcer had a wide, thick body that looked like it was made of large blocks of steel, reminding Rade of an Inukshuk—a series of rocks piled into the shape of a man. The walkers that flanked it meanwhile were twice that height, about the size of Hoplites. They had two long, ostrich-like legs connected to T-shaped upper bodies. Beneath the twin overhangs of those Ts were laser turrets and missile launches. Essentially, gunships on legs.
“Love the customs folks,” Manic said. “Always great to get a hero’s welcome.”
“Tahoe, have two of your robots exit calmly, weapons down,” Rade said. “Leave the HS3s inside.” HS3s were head-sized scouts that the team used to explore new environments. Sending the HS3s out now might be considered an act of aggression, prompting the walkers to shoot the scouts down.
“Roger that,” Tahoe said. “Sending two Centurions outside, weapons down.”
four
Rade glanced at his overhead map and saw Units A and B exit the first shuttle. He switched to Unit A’s point of view. The robots kept their hands firmly at their sides, and purposely let the rifles hang from the straps on their shoulders.
“Tell them who we are,” Rade instructed Unit A.
“Greetings,” Unit A began, using the external speakers of its jumpsuit. By Rade’s orders, all of the combat robots were wearing jumpsuits—that way they would have the same protection as the rest of the away team, in terms of Phant repelling capabilities. Admittedly, he hadn’t known there would be a Phant on the surface before giving that order, and he had done it mostly to prevent any opponents from knowing which of them were humans and which were robots when targeting them through scopes. The robots had activated holographic images in their faceplates to appear as Kenyans, and updated their public profiles to give them Kenyan names and birthplaces.
“We are members of the security consulting company Unlimited Universe,” Unit A continued. “We are here to ensure the safety of Muto Batindo, of the Kenyan Consulate of Talan, who seeks an audience with the Kitale governor.”
“All of you, please exit for customs processing,” the enforcer said.
“Customs processing,” Tahoe said. “Why don’t I like the sound of that.”
The walker robots stepped forward, making room for two more walkers to enter from the hallway behind them.
“Please exit,” the enforcer repeated. “Or we will drag you from the shuttles.”
“We should go back,” Batindo said.
“It’s a bit late for that now,” Rade said. “You’re the one who wanted to come here, remember?”
“Yes, but I didn’t expect this treatment!” Batindo said.
“Well what the hell did you expect then?” Rade said. “The red carpet to be rolled out and champagne and ladies waiting for you with their arms out? You’re the one who told me sedition was likely in play here. That you suspected the governor shot down those tax collection ships.”
“Yes but, I guess... I didn’t think it through,” Batindo said.
“You didn’t think it through,” Rade said flatly. He felt the anger rising inside him.
“For some reason I believed you could guarantee my safety,” Batindo said. “But I realize I was wrong. Nothing can protect me from those robots.”
“Listen, Batindo,” Rade said. “We have two options at the moment. Either we fight our way out of here, or we surrender peacefully. The chances of surviving the latter are, well, probably close to a hundred percent. You might be arrested, but you will survive. As for fighting our way out of here, the chances are maybe, what... fifty-fifty?”
“Approximately twenty percent, by my calculations,” Harlequin said. “We would have to fire the shuttle miniguns before lift-off and attempt to disable all of the robots. More walkers would likely emerge from the hallway to reinforce the ranks. And if we made it outside, other shuttles might launch from adjacent bays, and pursue.”
“So you see, Batindo,” Rade said. “The best option at this point is surrender. Besides, you don’t know what the governor wants, yet. Maybe he’ll let you go.”
“You think the Phant is in possession of the governor?” Fret asked over a private line.
“That would be a good assumption,” Surus said.
“Then we’ll be putting ourselves straight into its hands,” Manic said. “We’ll be at its mercy. It’ll execute us.”
“I’m not so sure,” Rade said. “If the Phant wanted us killed, it would have ordered those walkers to open fire already. What do you think, Surus?”
“It knows I’m here,” Surus said. “It also knows I can’t be killed by conventional means. It will want to lay low and analyze us, buying time until it comes up with a strategy.”
“All right,” Rade said. “Shaw, open her up. Let’s set the game in motion.”
The ramp went down.
“Everyone out, both shuttles,” Rade said. “Weapons down.”
The clamps restraining Rade telescoped open, and he stood up. Batindo arose beside him, but swayed. Rade caught him, and helped him down the ramp.
When they reached the deck, Batindo forced Rade away, and stumbled forward a few meters, before falling to his knees.
“Batindo, you all right?” Rade glanced at his vitals. All green. In theory he was fine.
Batindo fumbled with his helmet latches.
“Don’t—” Rade began.
Batindo ripped off his helmet and inhaled deeply of the air.
“Remove the helmet,” Rade finished.
Batindo leaned forward and kissed the grime-covered deck rivets.
“Guess he wants to expose himself to contagions,” Bender said.
“We’ll use priv exclusively from now on,” Rade said on the private line. “Batindo doesn’t need to hear everything we say.”
“There probably aren’t contagions, you know,” Lui said over the same comm band. “Given that this is a habitable dome, after all.”
“You know my rules,” Rade said. “Helmets remain on at all questionable outposts when we’re on a mission.”
“We’ve had liberty on some pretty questionable outposts and stations in coreward systems...” Fret said.
“True,” Rade said. “But we weren’t on missions then. Remember, these jumpsuits are shielded to protect against psi attacks. If the Phant Surus has
detected is a Black, we don’t need it controlling our minds. Helmets stay on.”
“Don’t forget the anti-Phant emitters we’ve since installed in the spine areas of the suits as well,” Lui said.
“Yes,” Tahoe said. “Though those will still work to physically repel Phants even if we take off our helmets.”
Rade helped Batindo to his feet, and made him replace the helmet.
The eight Centurions—still displaying Kenyan faces on their faceplates—led the way to the customs robots on the far side of the bay. The Argonauts followed.
“Who is in charge here?” the enforcer asked when the Centurions were five meters away.
Rade stepped forward and the Centurions parted to let him through. He had left his public profile unchanged, so that the customs officials would see he was CEO of Unlimited Universe.
“By order of the port authority,” the robot said. “You must surrender your weapons.”
Rade glanced at the menacing robots towering over him, then turned to look at the Argonauts behind the screen of Centurions. Surus fingered the Phant stun rifle she had slung over one shoulder.
“I definitely don’t want to give up the stun weapon,” Surus said over the private line.
Rade pursed his lips, then turned back to the enforcer.
“We’ll leave the weapons in our shuttles,” Rade said via his external speakers.
“No, leave them with us,” the enforcer said.
“We leave them in the shuttle, or no deal,” Rade said.
The enforcer remained motionless for several moments. Rade could almost feel those camera lenses it had for eyes boring into him; likely it was calculating how many Centurions and Argonauts the walker units could mow down before Rade’s team returned fire. Indeed, Rade half expected the laser turrets in the walker units to rip into him at any moment.
But finally the enforcer spoke: “As you wish. You may stow your weapons in the shuttle.”
Rade exhaled, then turned toward his men. “You heard the enforcer. Put the weapons back in the storage racks.”
Surus regarded her Phant stun rifle wistfully.
“We’ll come back for it,” Rade told her as he walked back to the shuttle.
Surus hesitated. Then: “I will do as you say. This is your operation, and I trust your judgment.”
“Thank you,” Rade said. “Because at the moment, we’re not entering this city with that weapon.”
“Maybe she can hide it inside her jumpsuit somehow?” Fret asked.
“Good luck with that,” Bender said. “The suit assemblies are way too tight.”
“He’s right, I can’t,” Surus said.
The Argonauts and Centurions entered their respective shuttles and placed their weapons in the provided racks.
“Units G and H, I want you to stay behind,” Rade sent. “Take one shuttle each. Seal the ramps and don’t let anyone touch our equipment. Especially that stun rifle.”
“You got it, boss,” Unit G returned.
Rade and the others returned to the customs officials.
“You have cleared customs,” the enforcer said. The walker units stepped aside, revealing the hallway beyond. “Kitale colony welcomes you. You say you seek a meeting with the governor? I have relayed your request, and the governor has cleared his busy schedule to receive you. I have marked the location of his office on your overhead maps.”
Rade received the map request. “Bender, clear the data.”
A moment later Bender said: “It’s safe. No viruses or Trojans are piggybacking on the packets.”
Rade accepted the map marker data and saw the waypoint appear on his overhead map. He already had the complete layout of Kitale displayed on that map, courtesy of Batindo.
“You are to proceed to the governor’s office immediately,” the enforcer said. “An escort will be waiting for you outside the terminal to ensure you arrive safely.”
“To ensure we arrive safely?” TJ said over the private line. “Or to ensure we don’t wander somewhere else, first?”
“You may remove your helmets at any time,” the enforcer continued. “The air is breathable, of course. We follow all environmental regulations, and have the highest bacterial filtration standards in the region.”
“We’d rather not,” Rade said.
“Suit yourselves,” the robot replied. It extended a hand toward the hallway, beckoning Rade and the others forward. Two more walker units awaited therein, but had stepped aside to allow the party members to pass.
“Centurions, lead the way,” Rade instructed.
He and the others followed the Centurions into the hallway. A pair of double doors on the far side led into a relatively empty terminal. There were different travel kiosks, some of them manned by robots and Artificials, but otherwise no clientele. Rade did note several security cameras monitoring the premises.
“Anyone else find it odd that no one is buying any tickets out of here?” Fret said.
“Uh, bro, how can they buy tickets out?” Bender said. “When there are no ships to take them anywhere?”
“Good point,” Fret said.
Outside the main exit to the terminal, four more walker-style mechs waited to escort them. Rade and the others exited, and took the stairs down to where the walkers resided. The machines towered over the party, their huge guns pointing down at them.
“Surrender your weapons immediately,” one of the walkers said.
“Uh,” Tahoe said.
Rade slowly lifted his hands. “We’ve already given up our weapons?” he said via his external speakers.
An automated cart weaved between the walkers, rolling forward.
“Surrender your weapons now,” the walker said.
Rade glanced at his companions, then shrugged. “Guess we’ve been discovered.”
He reached into the hidden compartment in his harness and retrieved the grenade he had stowed there and tossed it into the cart. The other Argonauts followed his lead.
“Happy?” Rade told the walker.
All of the turrets swiveled toward Shaw.
She smiled sheepishly past her faceplate, then reached behind and underneath her jetpack, retrieving a concealed blaster she had lodged there.
“Sneaky,” Bender said.
Shaw tossed it into the cart.
The automated device rolled away.
The menacing walkers remained in position for several moments, keeping their turrets trained on the party, and then finally lowered their weapons and stepped back, revealing a dark-skinned man standing before the Argonauts.
Actually, not a man: according to the public profile Rade accessed via his Implant, the individual was an Artificial.
“I will escort you to the governor’s office,” the Artificial said.
“How did you know we wanted to go there?” Manic said.
“A hunch,” the Artificial replied with a sly smile.
“See, Harlequin?” Manic transmitted as the Artificial led them down the street. “This thing understands sarcasm. So it’s not beyond you AIs.”
“I’m not sure it actually understood,” Harlequin said. “Or merely pretended to. That’s what I do, sometimes.”
“Once a poser, always a poser,” Bender said.
“Come on, don’t be so hard on Harley,” Manic said. “Bender means you’re a poet. Once a poet, always a poet.”
“It is all right, Manic,” Harlequin said. “I know that Bender cares about me. He—”
“What!” Bender said. “Shut the hell up AI.” His voice pitched upward a few octaves as he continued. “Bender cares about me. Bender loves me. Bender wants to caress me.” He cleared his throat. “Uh, no, bitch. When we’re done here, I’m going to invite you to the combat room and I’ll show you how much I care about you.”
Rade couldn’t help but smile. He knew that if Harlequin were injured in any way, Bender would be the first to come to his aid. His oneupmanship was all act. That was one of the consequences of the intense training they ha
d gone through to qualify for the MOTH brotherhood all those years ago. Competitiveness was rewarded, but some of the trainees unfortunately took it to the extreme, and it became a permanent part of their personalities. But throw them into the fires of battle, and teamwork, as well as the protection of one’s brothers, overrode all.
“You know, if I didn’t know better,” Lui said. “I’d think Bender and Harlequin were lovers.”
“I don’t need this crap,” Bender said. “I’m muting everyone save the boss. Good-bye.”
The Kenyan Artificial led them into a pedestrian-friendly area, free of vehicles. Most of the buildings here were low-rise apartments, with retail areas on the first floors. The commercial properties seemed to mostly repeat every block, and usually contained at least one variant of grocery store, hair salon, clothing outlet, butcher, bakery, and a restaurant or cafe.
Kenyans walked the closely-packed streets, along with errand robots—human-shaped constructs of black and yellow polycarbonate. Some of the men wore red and black checkered blankets draped across their bodies, the same “shuka” Batindo had worn on their initial meeting. Many of the men also dyed their hair red, like Batindo. According to Rade’s Implant, red traditionally signified power in their culture.
The fabric wraps seemed more common on the women, which proved far more colorful than their male counterparts. His Implant labeled those particular articles of clothing as “kangas.” From the necks of the women hung extensive, plate-like bead necklaces.
Both men and women wore sandals. Rade could have sworn the soles were lifted from rubber tires, given the tread patterns on them.
Delivery drones buzzed overhead, carrying various parcels to and from the retail shops. Otherwise, there were few aircraft above—the layout of the colony wasn’t really all that conducive to air travel, given that the city was spread over eight separate geodesic domes. There was ample space for those drones, though.
The robots and drones ignored the party, save for perhaps cursory glances, but most of the people scowled at them as they passed.
“They seem real friendly,” Manic commented.
“You’d give dirty looks to foreigners wearing jumpsuits in your environment, too,” Fret said. “Especially when your air was safe to breath. It’s almost kind of insulting that we have helmets on, like we think they’re dirty.”