“You know other chippies, even advanced ones, don’t read news articles or explore archives unless instructed to do so.”
“They lack my curiosity, sir. I’m an experimental advanced model.”
“Borderline sentient I’d say.”
“I wasn’t built for sentience, sir.”
“Maybe,” Siv replied, but he wasn’t sure about it.
“I’d prove it to you, sir, but the Tekk Plague wiped out nearly all the advanced chippy mode’s, never mind the top-secret, experimental ones like me.”
Siv suspected Silky was somehow even more advanced than he should be, but he had no way to prove it.
“So, you can’t research…whatever it is you research…right now?”
“When you’re awake, sir, I maintain active scans and remain ready to assist you. Your line of work is dangerous, and your father asked me to do everything I could to protect you.”
“And you always have, Silkster.”
“I do my best, sir.”
“Without you I never would’ve survived those first few years in the Shadowslip Guild.”
“I only wish I could’ve kept them from getting their hooks in you.”
“The world had changed a lot during the ninety-seven years I spent in cryo sleep, how were you to know what to expect? And I was just a scared little kid.” He smiled wryly. “What are you researching anyway?”
“Same as always, sir. Trying to find out why your father was killed and if the Tekk Plague had something to do with it.”
“I think you’re just using that as an excuse now.”
“An excuse for what?”
“You’ve developed an insatiable taste for obscure information not easily found on the galactic net. That’s what—”
“Gets me out of bed each morning?”
Siv smiled. “So to speak.”
“Perhaps so, sir. Perhaps so.”
“Well, since you’re going to maintain the active scans, how about I read a book while I ride? No reason both of us should be bored.”
Half an hour later, Bishop had assembled his device—a metal cylinder fifteen centimeters long and seven across. Siv had hoped the gizmet would be satisfied with the evening's work and go to bed, but he continued to fuss over the device, apparently making fine adjustments.
“Sir, the watchman just glanced at you onscreen for a second time. He doesn’t appear to be suspicious but—”
“I’ve caught his attention subconsciously. I’ve been riding the bike too long, and in street clothes no less.”
“Indeed, sir. Someone this dedicated to riding a stationary bike would have brought exercise clothes to change into. Or would’ve have gone to his apartment first to change.”
“I should’ve thought of that ahead of time.”
He glanced at the live feed in his HUD, wishing Bishop would quit playing with his new toy and go to bed already.
“I never expected him to take this long. He worked a fourteen-hour day before putting in those last three hours finishing the component.”
“He’s excited, sir.”
“So what do I do now?”
“I hate to suggest it, sir, because I loathe humidity, but the steam room would provide a good cover.”
“What does the humidity matter to you?”
“I just don’t like it.”
“Sometimes I wonder about you, old friend…” Siv shook his head. “Well, it's a good idea. Thanks.”
“You're welcome, sir.”
Siv went to the changing room, removed his mesh armor and clothes and, using his own handprint, secured them in one of the available lockers. Then he wrapped himself in a towel and went into the steam room. Thankfully, he was the only one there. He leaned back into one of the stone seats and groaned, already sweating.
“I don’t think I care much for steam, either.”
After another thirty minutes, Bishop finally turned in for the evening. Siv took his time showering off and getting dressed, in order to give Bishop time to settle in and fall deep asleep. By the time Siv entered the elevator, Bishop was approaching REM sleep.
“That upgrade to the spy-flies was ingenious, Silkster.”
“Thank you, sir. But it was quite simple to adjust them to monitor brainwave patterns. The only challenge was extending the range while maintaining battery levels, so they didn’t have to make contact with the subject.”
The elevator opened onto the 177th floor, and Siv stepped into the hallway. Fortunately, Bishop’s apartment was only two doors down from the elevator. Siv hurried over.
“The watchman isn’t watching, sir. I guess that makes him just a man.”
Siv groaned an almost silent response.
“And I guess that makes me the one who watches the watcher.”
“Cut the chatter,” Siv mentally snapped.
“Yes, sir.”
“If his head turns even the slightest amount toward the monitors, activate the sound mode on Spy-Fly 01 and buzz him.”
Siv swiped his hand across the pad and keyed in Bishop’s six-digit code. The display on the pad flashed green.
“How am I doing, Silkster?”
“All clear with the watchman and Bishop, sir.”
Siv eased the door open quietly and slipped inside the sparse, single bedroom apartment. He paused a moment to let his eyes adjust to the darkness. The filters in his smart lenses enhanced the ambient light entering the room from the planet’s two moons, one nearly full, and the city’s glow.
A recliner sat alone in the middle of the room. Worktables lined every inch of wall space, even in front of the living room’s giant window. Numerous boxes on and beneath the tables overflowed with odd tools, broken devices, and used parts. There was only enough floor space completely free of mechanical clutter to form a straight path through the room from the bedroom doorway to the grimy food station.
Siv closed the door and crept inside.
Suddenly, a warning flashed in his HUD.
“Sir, I’m detecting a high-level threat. Powered weapons, antigrav, force-shielding.”
A lethal threat in here? Siv drew his neural disruptor and placed his back against the door.
“Vector?”
“Straight—”
A spherical cog, half a meter across, zoomed out from behind a box of parts beneath the worktable on the far side of the room. The cog hovered directly across from Siv. Guns were mounted on either side of the cog's single eyeball, and a central indentation held a force field emitter.
Siv activated the arm-mounted force-shield he had inherited from his dad and raised his arm just in time. Two white-ringed neural blasts struck the meter-wide shield.
“Shield holding at ninety-two percent, sir.”
Siv returned fire, his own neural blasts fizzling out on the flying cog’s force field.
“Sir, you’re never going to shoot down a Billy-3 with a disruptor.”
“A Billy what?”
“It’s changing its armament, sir.”
Siv dodged aside as the cog fired two light plasma bursts at him. One plasma bolt burned into the door. The other glanced off his shield.
“You going to tell me what I’m fighting?”
“A BLY Security Cog, Model 3, sir. The Tekk Plague ruined most of them, and new ones can’t be manufactured. This model is fully functional though. Very rare indeed. And with its current charge it can withstand more than fifty neural blasts.”
Siv blocked two more rapid plasma shots.
“Shield strength at forty-seven, sir. I recommend a hasty retreat.”
“I’ve got a better idea.”
Siv slid to the left, and the cog maintained its distance, staying directly opposite him. Based on its antigrav type and the limited thrusters he saw in use, Siv guessed the security cog wasn’t very mobile. In fact, he was betting his life on it.
With his force-shield held in front of him, Siv rushed forward, firing his disruptor repeatedly. The cog returned fire but remained in the corner, bouncing with indec
ision, unsure how best to cope with a direct assault.
A plasma burst zipped past Siv’s force shield and seared across his shoulder. His armor absorbed most of the impact, but he could feel skin melting. The next shot splattered against his shield as he leapt onto the recliner. A warning light in his HUD showed the force-shield dropping to thirty-one percent. The shield had to hold a little longer or he was a dead man.
“Sir, we have a problem! Bishop is awake and heading toward you.”
Siv leapt off the recliner and flew straight toward the cog. He smacked into it, force-shield against force field, his weight against the cog’s. They plowed into the wall and fell, with Siv landing on top of the cog. His force shield had absorbed most of the impact but was now flickering at only two percent.
As the cog squirmed free, Siv deactivated the shield, reached into a hidden inner pocket, and slipped on his Duality Force Knuckles.
“Sir, he’s armed!”
Siv made a fist with his left hand and swung at the security cog, landing a solid blow. The metal bar across his knuckles released a charge of electricity along with a magnetic and grav-pulse combination. The cog’s force field absorbed the blast then fizzled out. With its antigrav engine unable to compensate, the cog crashed against the floor.
Siv’s force knuckles were spent, but they had accomplished his goal. Now he could hurt the thing.
“Sir!”
Crap! He had been so focused on taking out the security cog that he hadn’t even registered what Silky was trying to tell him.
“He’s armed?”
“Sorry, sir.”
As Siv spun around, the flashing, concentric circles of a disruptor blast struck him in the face.
He collapsed into darkness.
Chapter Ten
Siv Gendin
Siv woke to find himself tied to the recliner in Karson Bishop’s apartment. The blinds were closed and the Billy-3 security cog hovered menacingly in front of him. Karson Bishop, perched on a stool nearby, clutching a neural disruptor in each hand and glowered at him. The gun barrels trembled slightly and his deep, orange eyes—almost the exact same shade as Siv's—were feverishly bright.
“Morning, sir.”
“How long was I out?”
“Forty-five minutes, sir. And to answer the other questions you are likely to ask… Police detectors failed, as usual, to notice the gunfight. Bishop didn’t alert them either, or anyone else for that matter. Also, his heart rate is high. He’s not as calm as he seems.”
Siv studied the gizmet. Sweat beaded on his brow and he kept glancing nervously over his shoulder at the apartment door.
“Worse than he seems?”
“Indeed, sir.”
Siv strained his muscles, but couldn’t even budge the restraints.
“Body binders, sir. Why he owns body binders, I don’t know. Not sure I want to know. And they are charged.”
Siv relented. Intended for restraining Krixis or androids, body binders were made from artificial spider silk and carbon fibers, along with other materials. The locking mechanism was reinforced titanium and was controlled remotely. He wasn’t going to break free from body binders using brute force. And if necessary, Bishop could unleash a neural pulse from the binders to incapacitate him.
Siv sighed. “I’m too old for this, Silkster.”
“Nonsense, sir. You are only nineteen.”
“I’m a hundred and eight.”
“A mere technicality, sir.”
“Maybe, but I certainly feel it.” He shook his head. “I don’t belong here, Silkster. I’m a man out of time.”
“You think you’re old, sir? I’m over three hundred and thirty years old, and I was awake for all of it. The majority I spent in a socket attached to the skull of my best friend. Most of the rest I spent languishing with you in that stasis chamber. I’ve rewritten and optimized all my subroutines a thousand times each. I even spent a decade defragging my hard drive, just because I could. And hard drives haven’t needed defragging in several thousand years.”
“Poor, poor, Silkster.”
“You are oh so sympathetic, sir.”
“I try.”
Bishop glanced at the door for the fifth time since Siv had woken up. Every few moments he started to speak, but then stopped, clearly uncertain how to continue.
“I don’t have any accomplices on the way.”
“Wh–why should I believe you?” Bishop asked nervously.
“If I had brought backup, they would have stormed in already. Trust me, no one brings backup when robbing a gizmet researcher.” Siv eyed the hovering security cog. “Though maybe we should.”
Bishop relaxed somewhat. He gestured to his jamming device sitting on a nearby worktable. “Well, I know you didn’t call for help.”
“Sir, the device cannot block me. I can send and receive signals normally…broadband, secure feed, emergency broadcast…any signal.”
“You didn’t call the Shadowslip for help?”
“He didn’t call the cops, and he wasn’t going to kill you. Thought I’d wait and only do that as a last resort. You do have a reputation after all. This would ruin it. You’d be back to picking pockets.”
“Good call.”
“Your device won’t stop me,” Siv said.
Bishop crinkled his face with disdain. “Of course, it will.”
“I can call out if I want.”
“Preposterous. You’d need a 7G chippy minimum for that.”
Siv stared at him meaningfully.
“Oh!”
“8G would be required, sir. The device is impressive. I’m still analyzing it.”
Siv took a risk. His best hope to get free was to build trust with his captor. Then maybe he could make a deal.
“Actually, it will even block an 8G.”
“Oh!” The gizmet practically leapt off the stool. “You…you…oh!”
“For three more minutes it will, sir.”
“It will only block an 8G’s signals and reception for another three minutes. And yes, I have a 9G chippy. It’s currently analyzing your device.”
“Fascinating! I didn’t think any 9G’s were left. You must have robbed a truly wealthy man.”
“I inherited it from my father when he was murdered.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“The device will fail entirely in ten minutes, sir. It’s a TIB-A signal jammer. Military grade. Basically, a larger version of your signal jamming equipment. Only where yours is intended to block scans, this will block scans and signals of any type. TIB-A’s are highly unreliable, though. Sorry I didn’t recognize it at first, but when he reconstructed it, he completely changed the form factor.”
“Why would Bishop rebuild a military grade device?”
“Excellent question, sir.”
“I trust you won’t kill me and steal my chippy.”
Bishop recoiled. “I’m not the criminal here!”
“Then why did you reverse engineer a high-powered, military-grade signal blocker, telling everyone it was a basic jammer that you were going to use to keep other scientists from spying on your research?”
“How…” he slumped “how…did you know that’s what it was?”
“I have a military issue 9Gx chippy.”
The gizmet’s orange eyes flared to saucers, and his tufted ears twitched.
“So?” Siv asked. “Black market sales? A secret military contract? Plans to steal other scientists’ information?”
Bishop narrowed his eyes as his voice dropped an octave. “Why should I tell you, thief?”
Siv nodded toward the security cog. “A man who rebuilds one of those is afraid of his enemies.”
“Or thieves…”
“Fair enough,” Siv replied. “But I swear I was never going to hurt you. I waited until you were asleep. I only came for the device.”
“And whatever else looked pricey?”
“I make excellent money fulfilling contracts. I’m a specialist, not a petty thi
ef.”
With the guns still in his hands, the gizmet rubbed his temples with his wrists. “Honestly, Mr. Dustman, I didn’t know what the device was when I started working on it. Something military, I assumed. Not a bomb, I was certain.”
“I’m sure,” Siv said, obviously dubious.
Bishop frowned and pointed to a stack of boxes with a neural disruptor. “I collect old devices and try to reconstruct them to…to recover the lost arts of the Benevolence… And for a little money on the side sometimes, if I don’t think the device will harm anyone. The security cog was a pile of junk when I found it. Antique junk is the best, of course, since the Tekk Plague couldn’t affect anything not operational.”
Antique junk? Siv cursed silently. To him it was only a decade old. He would never get used to this world and its technological decline. Bishop leveled the disruptors at Siv and in a voice of mock confidence said, “Here’s the thing. I want to know—”
“How I even knew the device existed? That’s why you didn’t call the police.”
Bishop nodded.
“You talk too much. Someone overheard you waxing poetic about this device of yours and notified my employers. Then they sent me to steal the device.”
Bishop thumped a wrist against his forehead. “Which assistant told them? Or was it one of my colleagues? They’re jealous of my talents, you know.”
“I don’t know. Even if I did, I don’t rat out informants.”
“Aren’t you the honorable thief?”
“There’s nothing honorable about what I do,” Siv replied. “You wouldn’t know it based on what’s happened tonight, but I’m one of the best. I don’t steal because I want to. I steal because I have to. So I try to make the best of it. One of the ways I do that is by trying not to hurt anyone, or take anything I wasn’t specifically contracted to acquire.”
Bishop frowned. “Then why do you have to steal?”
“Sir! We have a problem. Check your feed on Spy-Fly 02.”
Ignoring Bishop, Siv brought up a large display for the drone’s feed. To conserve battery life, the drone was resting on the window sill in Bishop’s bedroom. Those windows had not been shuttered.
Judging by its headlights, a skimmer was approaching the building, far above the legal height for a vehicle of its type and moving fast—too fast. It was coming for one, or both, of them.
Rogue Starship: The Benevolency Universe (Outworld Ranger Book 1) Page 8