Roboteer

by Alex Lamb

  ‘Might?’ said Ira.

  ‘I’d give it about ten per cent.’

  ‘Then that’s not an option. Anything else?’

  Amy frowned. ‘Not that I can think of. I hate this, Ira. It makes me feel sick. Never in my entire medical career have I felt so helpless around a patient.’

  Ira shook his head. Even if Will was thoroughly compromised, Ira wasn’t going to give up on him so easily.

  ‘What if we sent him down to New Angeles?’

  Amy blinked at him in surprise. ‘An away mission isn’t a safe place for anybody, let alone someone as sick as Will is.’

  ‘John says it’s safe enough for him to take Hugo.’

  Ira watched the expressions cycle on Amy’s careworn face: confusion, disbelief, hope.

  ‘It would make all the difference,’ she said slowly. ‘Medicine on New Angeles is quite advanced. Their methods and focus are quite different from ours, but if we brought some skull schematics with us, it should be relatively easy for them.’

  ‘Will he last till we get there?’ he said.

  ‘He should,’ said Amy, her enthusiasm visibly rekindling. ‘I’ve mapped the disease’s spread rate. We’d have days to spare.’

  Ira pondered the idea. It clearly wasn’t what the Transcended had in mind, but maybe that was a good thing. At the end of the day, Ira needed his roboteer, and he needed him well enough to work. And if the planet was safe enough for Hugo … He rubbed his jaw.

  Amy put a hand on his arm. ‘Ira, if you think this is possible, we don’t have a choice. It would save his life. In fact, it’s probably the only thing that could. And it would make all the difference to the mission. He doesn’t need his micromachines for his interface to work. All they do is lay down the protein tracks that keep his nerve endings connected to the implant chips. His processors and transmitter would stay in. Eventually he’d experience some degradation in performance, of course, as his neurons reconnected, but he’d keep his functions till we get home. We’d have our roboteer back. We’d have Will.’ Her eyes implored him.

  ‘Hey, John,’ Ira called.

  John looked out from his bunk, his expression carefully neutral. ‘Yes, sir?’

  ‘My apologies, but you’re going to have to take Will down to New Angeles with you as well.’

  John was silent for a second, and then came back with a brittle smile. ‘I don’t recommend that, sir,’ he said. ‘Hugo’s one thing, but there’s no way I can make contact with the resistance and nursemaid Will at the same time.’

  ‘Fine,’ said Ira. ‘I don’t expect you to. I’ll send Rachel with you.’

  John blinked rapidly. ‘I don’t think that’s going to work, either. The more of us there are, the more likely it is we’ll hit trouble. It’s that simple.’

  Ira contained his annoyance. ‘Look, I’m aware of the risk, but babysitting people on New Angeles is either easy or it’s not. Which is it, John?’

  John’s mouth curved in discomfort before breaking into a sickly grin. It looked to Ira like he’d just worked out that he’d argued himself into a corner. The security expert sighed and chuckled. ‘Okay. You win, Captain,’ he said. ‘Four of us it is. I can tell you now, though, it’s not going to be easy.’

  ‘Nothing about this mission has been easy,’ Ira retorted. ‘Why should it start now?’

  11.4: WILL

  Will was woken by a violent shaking sensation.

  ‘Sorry about that, everybody,’ said Rachel. ‘Air pocket.’

  He forced his eyes to focus – something that felt unusually hard to do – and discovered that he was strapped into one of the seats aboard the Ariel’s shuttle. Rachel’s voice had come from behind him, and he could make out John in front, tapping madly on his keyboard.

  ‘What is this?’ he said blurrily. His mouth felt dry and furry. His limbs were weak to the point of being lifeless.

  ‘Will!’ Rachel exclaimed. ‘You’re awake!’

  ‘Just. What the hell am I doing here?’

  ‘Don’t worry, Will,’ she said. ‘Everything’s okay. We’re taking you down to New Angeles.’

  They’d arrived already? He must have been unconscious for almost a week. And apparently, in that time, the plans had changed again.

  ‘Why?’ he croaked. ‘What’s happening?’

  There was an uncomfortable pause.

  ‘We’re going to talk to the resistance, Will,’ Rachel replied. ‘About taking your micromachines out.’

  At first, Will couldn’t believe what he’d heard. Why would they do such a thing? Then he worked it out. The micromachines must have been the cause of his condition. Something in him squeezed tight. It was a mistake. The micromachines had been changed by the Transcended. For all he knew, they were a crucial part of his link to them.

  ‘You can’t,’ he said.

  ‘They’re killing you, Will,’ Rachel said gently. ‘They’re making the virus again, and this time they’re not stopping.’

  ‘I don’t care!’ Though Will dearly wanted his mind back, he wasn’t about to take risks with what might be humanity’s last chance.

  ‘Will—’ said Rachel, but John cut her off.

  ‘Everybody shut up!’

  The cabin fell silent. Then, over the speakers came an automated female voice.

  ‘Welcome home, Trader Arturi!’ it said. ‘I trust your trip has been a profitable one.’

  ‘I hope so,’ John replied cheerfully. ‘I won’t know that till I sell these damn things.’

  ‘Do remember that you have to quote for imported merchandise on arrival, on the basis of expected price,’ the voice told him.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ John told the machine with murderous lightness. ‘I’m filing it right now.’

  ‘Thank you, Trader Arturi. Wishing you a pleasant landing.’

  ‘Thank you, Customs,’ said John. ‘Arturi over and out.’ He punched a key on his keyboard and craned himself around in the cramped chair to face Will. ‘Welcome back to the land of the living,’ he said with a dangerous smile. ‘Given that you’re conscious, I’ll go through the rules one last time. Our job is to make contact with the resistance, fix you up, agree a price or barter for fuel and return to the rendezvous with a fuel-laden ship. That’s all. Everyone does what I say, when I say it. And if you step out of line, I’ll kill you. Is that clear?’

  The fact that John delivered this remark so easily, and with such empty goodwill, made Will’s blood freeze. He might have been joking, but Will didn’t think so this time. Something in the way John’s eyes shone left little room for humour.

  Will nodded.

  ‘I’m sorry about your micromachines, but this is an away mission and therefore under my jurisdiction,’ said John. ‘I’ve been given orders to see that you get medical attention, and that’s what I’m going to do. If all goes well, we’ll rendezvous with the Ariel two days hence.’ He made an inquisitive face. ‘Am I right in thinking this is your first trip behind enemy lines, Will?’

  Will wondered why he was asking. Of course it was. He nodded again.

  ‘Then you’re in the same boat as Hugo.’

  Will blinked in surprise. Hugo was on the mission, too?

  ‘Rachel has taken Fleet survival training,’ John explained, ‘so if I’m not there, you take your cues from her. If you want to make yourself useful, you can plug in and check the pilot SAP. We’ll be landing in just a few minutes.’ He turned back to his console.

  ‘You should know what the Transcended told me,’ said Will.

  ‘It’s not relevant,’ John said casually.

  ‘They said there was no way we could beat the Earthers without their help.’

  ‘And you believed them.’ The assault expert sounded almost pitying.

  ‘Yes, I believe them.’

  ‘You know, Will, that’s exactly what I would have told you if I’d been trying to take over your head. Now please be quiet before you convince me you have to die right now for the good of the mission.’

&n
bsp; Will sat in his seat and gripped the armrest with strengthless fingers. Whatever the Transcended had been up to, it didn’t appear to have made his situation any easier.

  ‘What the hell am I supposed to do now?’ he shouted into his private node. But this time, no puzzle appeared.

  John brought the shuttle in at an unmanned industrial facility that didn’t look like it had seen any activity since the Earthers arrived. It was just a bunch of windowless barrel-roofed buildings in the middle of nowhere, with sand piled up against one side and a dusty landing strip. It looked like dozens Will had seen on Galatea, if perhaps a little on the primitive side.

  He felt an involuntary squeeze of homesickness as he viewed the scene through the shuttle’s external cameras. The sky was a dusty lilac instead of blue and the rocks were redder, but otherwise, it was all painfully familiar.

  ‘Hey, Will,’ said John. ‘Want to get some of those robots to pull us in?’

  Will glared at the back of John’s seat. He considered refusing, but what was the point? Whatever scheme he cooked up to extricate himself from this mess would still involve finding juice for the Ariel and the survival of his shipmates. He used the shuttle’s data ports to jerk the facility’s old-fashioned robots into life.

  With the palsied slowness of long neglect, the machines pulled the shuttle into one of the hangars. It was a dismal place, all artificial lighting and dust-creep. They docked against a personnel tunnel and waited while what passed for an engineers’ habitat was pumped full of breathable air. When it was done, Rachel and Hugo carried Will out of the hot, ticking shuttle. Will couldn’t help noticing that Hugo refused to meet his eyes. What a happy family they’d become.

  ‘What’s the matter, Hugo?’ he asked.

  Hugo’s mouth tightened.

  ‘Hugo’s under orders not to speak with you unless the mission requires it,’ said John. ‘We’ve already had a chat. You won’t get much out of him. This way, ladies and gents,’ he added, strolling ahead of them.

  He led them into a featureless plastic corridor. Once again, Will had the strong sense that he could have been somewhere on Galatea. Except the Galateans never let their buildings become this shabby.

  ‘What is this place?’ Will asked.

  ‘Exactly what it looks like,’ John replied. ‘An unused freight station. They used to bring in luxury goods through here. Since the war, there hasn’t been much call for them.’

  ‘Won’t the Customs people notice?’ said Will. ‘This can’t have been where we were okayed to land.’

  John shot him an amused glance. ‘What on Earth makes you think that a single living person on this planet has a fucking clue what we’re doing right now? Customs has been fixed – or didn’t you catch that?’

  John took them to a staff changing room where they removed their environment suits and stored them in a great bank of empty lockers. Underneath, John wore a full set of Earther-style clothes in unobtrusive grey – high-waisted trousers of some cheap-looking material with fancy embroidery along the seams and a large, blousy shirt. Over his eyes went a data visor disguised as a pair of sunglasses. Strapped to his wrist was a small keyboard designed to resemble some kind of Earther fashion item.

  The others had nothing but their ship-suits. The Ariel wasn’t equipped for four-man away missions.

  ‘What are we going to do about these?’ asked Rachel, nervously fingering her sleeve.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said John. ‘It’s on my list. I’m not having you all wandering around in broad daylight wearing Gallie Fleet colours.’

  They followed a windowless tunnel to an environment door. On the other side of it was a small rectangular transit car seated on a rail leading out into the desert.

  John ushered them inside. ‘Get in, folks, this is our ride.’

  Once Will had been bundled aboard, John tapped the console on his arm and the car set off. The trip across the desert was achingly reminiscent of home – the same buttes, the same scree fields. Will found tears springing to the corners of his eyes.

  He realised then that he’d long since given up any hope that he’d ever set foot on a planet again, let alone his own. It was a terrible kind of tease, he decided, being here. It reminded him so much of the place he wanted to be, yet, if anything, it was more dangerous than the starship they’d just left.

  The others looked similarly entranced. They watched the passing landscape, drinking it in. Only John appeared indifferent to the view. He scorned the seats and leaned up against the plastic window, tapping idly at the keyboard on his wrist, a fixed smile curving the corners of his mouth.

  Eventually, a rose-tinted tent city appeared in the distance, like some enormous Old World circus set out in the middle of nowhere.

  ‘That’s our destination,’ John told them. ‘The city of Goldwin.’

  Will had played memories of tent cities, but this was the first time he’d seen one with his own eyes. It looked huge and fragile beyond belief. Graceful white masts supported a skin of translucent polymer. Will could make out pastel-coloured buildings inside, gleaming like giant crystals. It was something out of a fairy story and it demolished the illusion of being home. No one on Galatea built anything that tall or flimsy. It’d be smashed flat in the first dust storm that came along. Clearly, New Angeles didn’t have real dust storms. It was just one of the many advantages of not pursuing a terraforming project.

  As they approached, the illusion of fairy magic began to fade. Will made out splotches of pale grey sealant foam on the tent wall – recent repairs, and lots of them. He could see black scorch-marks on the buildings inside, too. His sense of foreboding returned.

  The mood in the transit car grew steadily sourer as they got closer. John stopped smiling and began scanning the terrain outside for signs of enemy attention. Fortunately, there were none.

  Will held his breath as the car slid into a cluster of drab, boxy buildings stuck to the edge of the city. The lilac-tinted light disappeared behind them as they entered another gloomy hangar lit by isolated halogen lamps far overhead. Huge stacks of cargo loomed on either side of them like blank-faced houses. In the background, Will could make out the lumbering silhouettes of heavy-duty lifter trucks.

  The transit car slid to a halt against an environment door. John strode up to meet it.

  ‘Wait here,’ he told them. He disappeared through the moment it opened.

  Hugo and Rachel helped Will to the doorway. Minutes scraped nerve-wrackingly by. Will began to wonder if John had decided to undertake the mission alone and abandoned them, but seconds later he reappeared and ushered them forward.

  ‘Okay, come on. And keep it quiet.’

  John led them out into a huge enclosed space filled with dry, tasteless air and the hum of fans. Robot motors whined somewhere nearby. It was a long time since Will had been exposed to such a large space without walls or a spacesuit screening him from it. It made him feel dizzy and free. And afraid.

  John led them down a narrow path between stacks of huge freight containers stored in perfectly straight rows. Will bit his lip every time they passed an intersection. At the end of the path was an open area where the light was brighter. They stopped just before it.

  ‘The guards’ post is just up ahead,’ John whispered. ‘It’ll take a moment to distract them.’ He tapped on his sleeve. ‘When I give the word, follow me. Stay close. Don’t stop or say anything.’

  From somewhere beyond the containers, Will heard the laughter of young men. The sound was followed by some enthusiastic shouting in one of the many incomprehensible Earther languages. Will realised it was the first time in his life that he’d actually heard the people they were fighting first hand. They sounded normal.

  ‘Now,’ John hissed.

  The assault expert strode out as if he owned the place. The rest of them struggled along barely two paces behind. Will stumbled between his two human crutches, willing his body to walk.

  Ahead of them was a broad polycrete forecourt where several priv
ate transports were parked – the sort Will had often seen on imported interactives. Beyond was a rectangular opening leading onto a road lined with blank-faced buildings.

  John walked straight past a glass-fronted guardhouse to their left. From the corner of his eye, Will glimpsed a group of soldiers clustered around the light from a monitor screen in the corner. The sight of them chilled him.

  Hugo hesitated in front of the guard-house for a moment like an over-stimulated robot, but Rachel dragged him forward. A private transport rolled through the opening and stopped right in front of them.

  ‘Get in,’ John said quietly. ‘And make it fast.’

  He opened the back door for them. They bundled Will in while John stepped around to the front of the vehicle. He slid into the seat and tapped something on the dashboard. The side windows went dark.

  Hugo was the last to get in. As his door closed, John grabbed the steering column and drove straight out into the bright street beyond. Rachel gasped in relief.

  ‘Don’t relax just yet,’ he told her. Almost on cue, they turned the corner of a beige industrial building to find a squad of Earther soldiers in bright red and yellow uniforms standing there with bulky pacifier-rifles slung across their backs.

  ‘Don’t look at them,’ John advised. ‘Stay low in the seats.’

  For Will, that wasn’t a problem. He could barely sit up.

  John pulled the transport to a halt just a few blocks further on. ‘Stay here,’ he said, and got out. He strode away through the doorway of a white-fronted warehouse.

  ‘What’s he doing?’ asked Hugo.

  ‘How should I know?’ Rachel snapped.

  A military vehicle striped like a hornet passed them on the other side of the road. Will’s heart waited until it was past to resume beating.

  John stepped back out of the warehouse with some bulky plastic-wrapped parcels under his arm. He strolled nonchalantly up to the transport and opened the back door next to Rachel. He hurled the packages in as if the passengers weren’t there.

  ‘Get dressed,’ he told them and slammed the door. Then he got back into the front seat and drove on.