by Isaac Hooke
Bender ignored him. Clearly, he was disturbed by what he was seeing. Finally: “Those goddamn bitches. What they’re doing to those apartment residents is inexcusable. I want to kill them all, I swear I do. If I ever get Juggernaut back, I’m going on a rampage. These bugs are going to rue the day they ever set foot in my colony.”
“Your colony now, is it?” Fret said.
“Damn right,” Bender said.
“What we’re seeing isn’t much different than what we observed earlier,” Lui said. “Why are you getting all riled up only now?”
“No, it is different,” Bender said. “Those are kids out there. The last building we saw was an office building. This is an apartment. And there are kids.”
The group watched the feed in quiet for some moments. Rade felt his own anger rising, and he didn’t blame Bender for wanting to kill every last one of those bugs.
“Guess we won’t be taking the subway to the adjacent dome,” Tahoe said. “Look at the connecting tunnel. Unit B’s feed.”
Rade switched to Unit B’s camera. The robot had approached after Unit A confirmed it was safe, and had zoomed in on the edge of the dome, which was visible from the current vantage. Beyond it, the conduit connecting the current geodesic dome to the next had been completely destroyed. Hundreds of spiders lurked between the domes, apparently standing guard.
Rade sighed. “I suppose not.”
At that point, he wasn’t quite sure how they were getting off the planet.
“I’ve been accessing Unit A’s radiometry information,” Lui said. “The Centurion has a clear view of the neighborhood...”
“And?” Rade said.
“I think I’ve found the source of the jamming signal produced by this dome,” Lui continued. “I’ve pinpointed it to a transmission tower eight blocks to the south. Unit A, would you mind turning toward the center of the dome? I’m marking the location on the map.”
Rade glanced at the overhead map and saw the waypoint appear. He switched back to Unit A’s viewpoint; the robot had zoomed in on the designated tower. Rade could see various antennae and transmitters residing near the top.
“We’ll never get there, not through those streets,” Tahoe said.
“You are talking about the central communications tower?” Kato said.
“Send him the location,” Rade told Lui.
Kato must have received it, because he said: “There is a subway stop not far from there.”
Rade studied the surrounding area on the map, and noticed the subway entrance indicated as a point of interest. “We might just have a way after all, Tahoe. We wait until evening when the dome darkens, or until most of the aliens rest—”
“Assuming they rest,” Fret interrupted.
“Yes,” Rade said. “And then we take the subway tunnels until we reach that area. Then we surface, disable the jamming device, and restore communications with the Argonaut. Once we do that, you know what comes next, right?”
“Hoplites,” Lui said.
“And my backup stun rifle,” Surus added.
Rade dismissed Unit A’s feed to view the world through his own eyes.
“What about the Phant trap?” Rade said, referring to the storage tank that could constrain a Phant. “We could have the Hoplites carry it down.”
“Mmm, I’ll just keep stunning the host until we return to the ship,” Surus said. “Seems easier that way.”
“Assuming that there is a host,” Fret interrupted.
“Someone’s negative today,” TJ said.
“If there isn’t a host,” Surus said. “We’ll find one.” She glanced at Harlequin.
“I’m not being a host!” Harlequin said. “Choose Unit A!”
“Hey, why me?” Unit A said.
“Stop,” Rade said. “There will be a host when we find our prey. Probably Governor Ganye. But Surus, won’t continually stunning the Phant be hard on the Artificial?”
She shrugged inside her jumpsuit. “You did it to my host before, and she survived. Though Emilia didn’t enjoy it, I admit.”
“You’ll have to give up control of your Hoplite to the AI if you want to keep stunning the host...” Rade said. He envisioned her sharing the cockpit with the Artificial, which would prevent her from using the inner actuators to control the mech.
“I have no problems doing so,” Surus said. “I have a feeling we’ll need to keep the weapon mounts of all of our Hoplites free. Leave the holding tank aboard the Argonaut.”
“Okay then, when the time comes, I will,” Rade said.
“Hey, I got a question for Surus,” Bender said.
“I won’t go out with you,” Surus told him, preempting the question.
“No, that’s not what I was going to ask,” Bender said. “Close, though. My inquiry is in regards to the stun rifle. Or related to it, anyway. See, during the First Alien War, when you Greens teamed up with us, you gave us access to particle weapons that could ‘snip’ Phants from this universe, making them lose permanent contact with this reality. Whatever happened to that? Why do we have to go through this drawn out process of capturing Phants and throwing them into stars?”
“For one thing, those weapons require access to power sources your technology cannot provide,” Surus said. “They were built into the golden mechs we temporarily supplied you with, if you’ll recall.”
“Then supply us with those golden mechs again,” Bender said. “Or just patent up some new shit like you’ve done before.”
“I think what she’s saying is: she doesn’t want to give that technology to humanity,” Lui explained.
“Well, yes,” Surus said. “But there’s something else. The weapons technology was never perfected. It turned out that some of the Phants could in fact return to this universe after we ‘snipped’ them, as you call it. The technique wasn’t foolproof. That’s another reason there are so many Phants still free in this region of space. Vanquished entities would reappear years later, ready to cause havoc. Throwing them into stars is the best way to get rid of them at the moment.”
“Ah, too bad,” Bender said.
“Centurions,” Rade said. “Retreat from the breach and return to the airlock.”
When the robots arrived, the Argonauts vacated the level and proceeded to the next floor.
The eighth level hallway was laid out almost exactly the same as the floor below: a few elevators next to a washroom door, beside a locked airlock. The sign above the airlock read, in Swahili: “Brightwood Insurance Inc.”
“TJ, open the outer hatch,” Rade ordered.
TJ remained where he was, working remotely. Rade knew he would simply piggyback on the Implants of those who were closer if the signal proved too weak.
“Why is this one taking so long?” Manic said. “When you got through the stairwell doors so fast?”
“All the airlocks are running on different subsystems,” TJ said. “It’s a security precaution.” He paused. “Fret, you looking over my shoulder?”
“If it’s bothering you, I can disconnect,” Fret said.
“No, that’s fine,” TJ said. “Just not used to anyone being interested in this sort of thing.”
“Looks like you’re running a command shell of some kind,” Fret said.
“That’s right,” TJ said. “It’s the only way to work.”
Fret chuckled. “In movies, to represent hacking they always show someone doing a command line directory listing. ‘Hey look, I just did an ls -alrt and I’m getting access to the bank’s financial systems!’ Leet leet leet.”
“That’s stupid kids for you these days,” Bender said. “You merely pull up a command line interface, and the bitches automatically assume you’re a hacker.”
“But in the case of you and TJ, you actually are,” Fret said.
“Yeah but that’s not my point,” Bender said. “Because like you said, mind-typing in a command shell isn’t hacking. That’s like me saying I’m a sex master because I’m a good kisser. Though I guess in my case
that’s true as well. Hear that, Surus?”
She ignored him.
A moment later TJ announced: “I’m in.”
fourteen
Rade had the robots repeat the sweeping process—TJ opened and closed the hatches that sealed the airlock, and the Centurions moved in to clear the space.
Switching between the feeds, Rade saw the blast shields remained entirely intact on the current level, covering all the floor to ceiling windows. There were no breaches in the metal.
The Units spread out after securing the perimeter, and mapped the interior office space: cubicles; offices; a kitchen; a conference room.
The Centurions completed their sweep and confirmed it was clear.
“By the way, I found a water cooler in the kitchen,” Unit A said. “Along with some energy bars in a cupboard. And a vending machine.”
“Ooo, vending machine,” Bender said. “Time for my junk food fix. You bitches can have the energy bars. I get the chicken chips.”
“All right, looks like we have a place to hole up,” Rade said. “Tahoe, take us in.”
The airlock could only fit four at a time, so Tahoe divided the squad into appropriate groups, and they entered in phases, opening and closing the inner and outer hatches in turn so that the airlock could properly pressurize.
When everyone was inside, Rade had Lui perform an extensive atmospheric scan.
“Definitely breathable,” Lui said. “With no sign of any contagions.”
Rade nodded.
“Do we risk opening our faceplates to conserve oxygen?” Tahoe said. “There haven’t been any psi attacks so far...”
“Surus, are you still able to sense the Phant?” Rade asked.
“It’s still in the dome,” Surus said. “For the time being. But I have no idea how far away. It could be lurking in the coffee pot in the kitchen for all we know.”
“But given such a small electronic device, the evidence of Phant possession would be obvious,” Harlequin said. “We’d see condensation at least, and—”
“I was being slightly sarcastic,” Surus said. “My point is, it could be anywhere.”
“Oh,” Harlequin replied.
“Did you notice, she called the Phant ‘it’ now?” Bender said. “I got through to her earlier after all.”
“I meant ‘he,’ of course,” Surus said.
Bender mouthed “bitch” behind his faceplate.
“I’m going to authorize open faceplates,” Rade said. “But set your local AIs to automatically seal the helmets at the first sign of decompression. If one of those spiders decides to breach the blast shield, you’ll need something with the speed of an AI to act. I’m definitely not going to allow anyone to remove their helmets entirely. Harlequin, teach the Kenyans how to program the AIs.”
“We know how to do it,” Kato said, the indignation obvious in his tone. “You think just because we’re Kenyan, we’re incapable?”
“No,” Rade said. “Because you’re civilians. Harlequin, make sure they do it right.”
“Will do,” Harlequin said.
“You’re civilians, too,” Kato pressed.
Rade pursed his lips. “We stopped thinking of ourselves as civilians a long time ago.” He turned toward TJ. “Lock the inner hatch behind us.”
“Done,” TJ replied.
Rade issued instructions to his local AI to seal the faceplate if the pressure dropped by more than ten kilopascals within a span of nanoseconds. Then he opened the translucent composite.
The others presumably issued the same commands to their AIs and repealed their faceplates in turn.
“Now where’s this damn kitchen?” Bender said. “I’m famished.”
“Woe betide anyone who gets between Bender and his food,” Tahoe said.
“Damn right,” Bender said.
The Centurions guided the party toward the kitchen. The atmosphere in the office space was as moody as the rest of the building, with the cubicles lit only by the overhead HLEDs and all external light blocked by the blast shields.
When they reached the kitchen, Rade found himself in a room with a fridge, some cupboards, a coffee table, lounge chairs, and a countertop containing a sink, coffee maker, food reheater, and snack 3D printer—the vending machine. Several snack items lay behind the glass separator, already premade.
Bender made a beeline to the vending machine.
“All right, chicken chips time baby.” He paused, looking past the glass. “What! They don’t have chicken chips! Damn it.”
Manic joined him and peered through the glass. “Turkey jerky is just as good.”
“Oh yeah, of course you’d like the turkey jerky,” Bender said. “That’s what you do all day on the Argonaut after all.”
“Hey, got to pass the time somehow,” Manic said. “If I don’t jerk my turkey, who will? You?”
TJ joined them. “I got this. Vending machines are my specialty.”
“Your specialty?” Bender said. “Man, I trained you! Fine, go ahead then, bro. There’s nothing I want in there anyway.”
“Fridge is empty,” Manic announced.
TJ held his gloved hand over the vending machine, covering the area normally responsible for interfacing with an embedded ID and deducting funds.
“You trained him?” Tahoe asked Bender.
“Yeah, when we first graduated into the MOTH brotherhood,” Bender replied. “And joined the Teams, the two of us hung out in the common area on base all the time. By ourselves, mind you... the platoon hadn’t accepted us yet. You know, the whole newbie-caterpillars-haven’t-proved-themselves-so-let’s-haze-and-ostracize-them deal. The bitches.
“Anyway, we had a bit of free time in the evenings, when they weren’t hazing us. There was a particular vending machine in the common room that pissed off most of the platoon because of the crazy high prices. Three digicoins for a bag of Liqits? I mean come on. I’ll pay three digicoins for a bag of tits maybe, but not Liqits.”
“Remind me what a Liqit is again?” Fret said.
“Bitch?” Bender said. “Mints?”
“Oh yeah,” Fret said.
“So, TJ and I thought we could gain some brownie points by hacking into the vending machine,” Bender continued. “We hoped it would give us at least a modicum of respect, and help tide over the platoon until we could make it to our first combat deployment. We were wrong, of course, and still got hazed for months afterwards, but that’s beside the point. Anyway, with our advanced hacker skills, we thought breaking into something as simple as a vending machine should be a piece of cake. It wasn’t. It took about three weeks, with me basically sharing everything I found out about the machine with TJ, and—”
“I shared what I discovered with you, too, bro,” TJ said. “In case you forgot.”
“Yeah, well, the solution turned out to be a buffer overrun,” Bender said. “When you flooded the food selector interface with a particular bit sequence, you could reset the machine and boot into admin mode, at which point you could change all the prices. So what we did is flipped the price of everything from positive to negative, and added a zero to all the numbers. So basically the machine paid us when we ordered something from it. And big bucks, at that.
“The other platoon members loved us, of course. Or pretended to, at least for the five minutes it took them to empty the contents of the vending machine, exhausting the raw 3D-printing supplies to boot. The vendor restocked it two weeks later, and the platoon emptied it out within the hour. The vendor must have been surprised at how popular that particular machine on that particular base was.
“The vendor finally realized what was going on when they did their reconciliation at the end of the month. The vendor informed the base commander, and TJ and I had to pay back all the money from our salaries, even though the other platoon members had taken the majority of the items. Though our lieutenant commander gave us a firm chewing out, I believe he secretly admired us for it. Chief Bourbonjack certainly did, though he didn’t show it at th
e time. Ah, the good old days.”
“Unlocked,” TJ said. “I set the price of everything to zero.”
“Why didn’t you set it to negative?” Bender said.
“Bro, I’ve developed morals since then,” TJ said.
“Ha!” Bender said, pressing a bunch of buttons at the same time and filling the bottom up with different junk food items. “Morals? You’re still a thief.”
“Call me Robin Hood,” TJ said. He scooped up the items from the bottom of the vending machine and distributed the packets to the team. There were ordinary potato chips, energy bars, and two types of jerky—turkey and ostrich. And of course candy bars, gum and mints.
“That was a good story,” Fret said, taking a bite out of a candy bar. “But so far this mission we’ve only seen any actual hacking ability from TJ. Are you sure you haven’t lost your touch?”
“Don’t need to prove nothin’,” Bender said. “You’ve seen what I can do many times. And let’s be honest: I’ve built robots with more brains than you.”
“You mean sex robots?” Fret said.
Bender shrugged inside his jumpsuit.
Fret turned toward TJ. “So what was your hacker alias back in the day?”
“You don’t want to know,” TJ said, munching on some jerky.
“Come on, I do,” Fret said.
“The Italian Rapscallion.”
“The Italian Rapscallion?” Bender said. He broke into laughter. “Oh man, that’s the stupidest alias I ever heard.”
TJ smiled, seeming indulgent. “Yeah, pretend this is the first time you’ve heard it.”
“Oh I’m sure I’ve heard it, but it was so stupid my mind erased it,” Bender said.
“Yeah, and maybe you should tell them yours?” TJ said.
“The Pussywillow,” Bender said.
Manic exploded with laughter. So much so, that the bag of potato chips he was holding flew from his arms.
“You gonna be okay, bro?” Bender said.
“The Pussywillow!” Manic said, coming up for air. “And he says your alias was stupid, TJ. The Pussywillow! He actually called himself the Pussywillow?”