Robot Awareness: Special Edition Page 13

  The wheels touched down expertly, one of Joey’s best landings yet, the dampener sensors indicated. He was getting pretty good, and was aware of this. As the ship approached its designated landing pad, the large throng of station guests became visible. More people than had populated the Sasugan station wandered the walkways between ships. Joey guessed there were more people on this station than the entire colony he grew up on.

  “You’re about to see why I.S.S. is so popular,” Porter grinned.

  Joey continued to stare out the viewscreen well after the ship had stopped and the docking clamps secured the landing wheels to its platform. Joey now had an up-close view of a variety of people more diverse than he could imagine. A group of travelers wandered past the screen, decked out in bright, multi-colored flight gear that somehow looked Earthy, accented with fringes and sashes and animal skins, with hair that shot out from their scalps in iridescent shocks ranging one to three feet in length. They joked and laughed as they made their way through the crowd, and Joey watched them with interest until they disappeared past the end of the viewscreen.

  “Make sure you get all the supplies you need. This is our last stop for awhile.”

  “Um,” Joey began, still somewhat transfixed by the scene before him. “Before where?”

  Porter didn’t answer but gripped the back of Joey’s chair a little more forcefully. “Be careful here. It’s not hard to get lost in this place.”

  He stood straight up, stretching his large, muscular arms above his head. “I’m going to gather the crew. I'm sure they're anxious to disembark. Meet me at the docking bay in five minutes.”

  “Should I bring robot?” Joey asked, looking at the recharging machine on the other side of the bridge.

  “Sure. I’ll give you a few extra credits, you can get some extra maintenance. Maybe a systems upgrade. Nobody will give your robot a second look for being out of place, but you’d better keep track of it. Lots of people would like to get their hands on a machine like that.”

  “Maybe we could sell it for seed money,” joked Isellia, who just entered the bridge.

  Joey looked ready to protest.

  “Or we could sell that XR of yours,” Porter joked.

  “That’s not funny!” Isellia said, her eyes narrowing on Porter like a hawk eyes its prey.

  “Sure, I bet we could pay for a year’s worth of maintenance on this ship with that kind of seed money,” Porter scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Let’s see, the landing gear could be upgraded, we could refinish the lower port-side hull, and then there’s...”

  Isellia started to slap at Porter’s arm while he laughed and pretended not to notice. Joey watched but kept thinking more of the upgrades and maintenance he’d get done for robot. Maybe they’d let him watch the installation, or even allow him help with it.

  ***

  The group stood gathered at the docking bay, A loose group gathered roughly around the ship’s exit. Joey had a soldering iron and made some small adjustments on one of the robot’s circuits as it stood motionless. Rex stood next to the assassin so closely they nearly touched, while Isellia very visibly pretended not to notice. Stephen nervously fingered the strap on his day pack, which hugged his hip like a belt and gave him the look of a tourist.

  Porter looked them over silently, and weighing his parting words carefully. No one really cared what he said and wanted to get on with their business, and he was at least cursorily aware of that fact; but it was a tradition when they disembarked that he say a few words, and he enjoyed the feeling.

  “Alright crew,” Porter said, smiling to have his crew filled out, if not a bit unusually. “It’d be best if everyone stayed in groups. Rex and, um—"

  “Celia is fine."

  "Okay, Celia. You’re okay with being paired?”

  “Fine,” Rex said slyly as a dark shadow clouded Isellia’s face.

  “Very good. Isellia, you can come with me.”

  “Forget it,” Isellia said, arms crossed. “I’m better off alone, you know.” She glared at the assassin as she spoke, who returned the look with a warm smile. Isellia continued glaring, but started to turn red with anger.

  “Nope. I need your to help with supply parts. You’re coming with me. Joey, you take the robot and Stephen with you. Joey’s got some service to take care of on the robot, and you get whatever you need for the engine room. I’ll give you extra credits.”

  “Okay!” the pair said in unison.

  Isellia smirked. “You’re putting those two together? Oh, that’ll turn out well,” Isellia said, rolling her eyes.

  “Isellia,” Porter said pensively.

  "He might end up getting engaged again." She winked sarcastically at Joey.

  "Will not!" Joey said.

  "Isellia!" Porter said more sternly.

  “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Isellia said, but still grinned as she brushed her bangs from her cheek.

  “Alright, be careful out there. Be back here in two hours.”

  “Two hours?” Isellia complained. “What, are we supposed to run everywhere?”

  Porter sighed. “Fine, three hours. But no more. It’s not cheap to park here for too long.”

  “That’s not all that’s cheap around here…” Isellia muttered.

  “You say something?” Porter asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

  “Hmm?” Isellia asked wide-eyed, tracing a small circle with her toe coyly.

  “Three hours,” Porter said, shaking his head as he opened the door.

  ***

  Two thin-bodied beings the like of which Joey had never seen walked past him and Stephen as they made their way through the crowd of the ISS station. They carried a baby version of them in a long cylindrical green quiver that easily could have held arrows for a bow. Joey had read about arrows in a book about Old Earth, and had been fascinated with the idea, even making his own — so when he saw the small creature, it was the first thing he thought of.

  Three large creatures drank cans of synth and pushed each roughly as they walked past Joey surprisingly fast for their size. Joey couldn’t help but think of large balls on a pair of stilts as they passed - the men had thin legs and round upper bodies, and in fact were not men but the females of their species. They were loud, rough and aggressive, and easily gave the appearance of males to humans who didn’t know better.

  The ships caught Joey’s eyes too. A small woman in a jumpsuit polished a craft that looked like a larger version of Isellia’s ship. XR had experimented with a cruiser class ship that could traverse large tracts of space. It turned out to be wildly unpopular, largely because if someone had the money to buy a cruiser class ship new, they wanted something that looked like a cruiser class ship. The ship gained more popularity on the secondary market, where most people on the outer circle bought them — but XR, like any manufacturer, doesn’t make products for the secondary market.

  Joey’s attention had been distracted momentarily by a woman with unusually tall, purple hair and dark, scaly purple/black skins when he smacked into something large and solid. He fell backward, nearly falling over himself before catching his balance.

  “Watch it!” The wall said. Joey looked up to see one of the largest humanoids he’d ever seen in his life looming over him and not looking particularly pleased.

  “S-S-Sorry,” Joey stammered, feeling a tingle of fear creep up his spine and over his scalp.

  The man, wearing coveralls that were as wide as they were tall and a red stocking hat, looked from Joey to Stephen and back again. “You two little punks got a lot of guts wandering around an I.S.S. by yerselves. ‘Specially if yer not watching who’s path yer crossing.”

  “We’ll be careful,” Stephen said, without his usual stutter as he attempted to walk past the man’s bulk with his head lowered to the ground as if watching his feet.

  “You’ll be dead!” The ruffian grabbed Stephen’s head like a grapefruit and threw him back, the small man toppling like a doll thrown by a child. He rolled head o
ver heels a few times then landed flat, barely getting up.

  Joey’s expression changed, and he suddenly forgot his fear. “Yaaaaaaahhhhh!” he yelled, charging the ruffian.

  The man was too quick, and had been in too many fights to be taken by surprise, and dodged out of the way faster than seemed possible for a man of his size. Joey fell to the ground while the enormous man bellowed with laughter. “Lot a spunk for a little guy!" The man almost looked pleased, but then his expression narrowed again.

  Joey looked up to see a pair of black boots standing between him and the giant man. He saw the big guy wheel around and start to grab him, then suddenly recoil in pain.

  Joey sat up to see a slender, small man only a little bigger than Stephen, with little hair and a bushy mustache, calmly holding the gigantic man’s hand in a way that seemed to cause him great pain. His grimace could be seen through his large beard, as his face writhed in anguish.

  “Okay, okay!” the big man blathered, grimacing in pain. “I was just playin.’ No big, OW, no big deal! Aw, please let go!”

  The small, slender man didn’t respond, but changed his angle slightly, causing the man’s face to come within inches of his own. He had short, straight hair which framed a grizzled expression.

  “A warning,” he said, after a moment of silence. “Next time you disturb the peace on my watch, you won’t be using this hand again. Ever. Got it?”

  The man nodded rapidly, still wincing in pain. This didn’t seem to be good enough for him. “Got it?” he asked again, leaning in a little closer.

  “Okay, sure, yes sir, yep, I – OW – yes, okay, yep, I – oh thank god,” the ruffian said, rubbing his wrist and hand as the grizzled old man let go. Joey nearly laughed with relief and at the sight of the huge man scurrying away with his head bowed over his throbbing wrist.

  The man didn’t look away, but kept watching the retreating giant of a man as he spoke. “I’d say be careful around here. These parts get a little rough. But you got bigger problems on your hands.”

  Joey’s expression grew quizzical as Stephen found his feet, limping slightly as he stood up. “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “Somebody’s gone off with your ‘bot.”

  A cold panic struck Joey as he looked frantically about for the missing robot. It occurred to him that the robot should have stepped in and intervened during the skirmish. His eyes frantically darted through the crowd, full of people who had observed the incident but had not paid much attention — he found no sign of the robot. The blood drained from his face as he looked back up at the man. Had it wandered off? Did someone steal it? Who could have? All this cycled through Joey's young mind.

  The constable looked at him for the first time. “I got a pretty good theory. Didn't think she’d have the guts to come back here again."

  “What? Who?” Joey didn't know what to say. "What?"

  “Let’s go,” he said, with Joey and the limping Stephen following him.

  ***

  The dark cove smelled of dank cigarette smoke mixed with the sweet scent of incense covered in the dark veil of engine oil. A dim, red glow lay like an ugly blanket over the cluttered space, lending a crimson sheen to the piles of machines, engines, hoses, gears, sprockets, transmissions, forklifts, broken forks, wheels, wings, widgets — gizmos that both fit and didn’t fit the robot’s catalogue. An imposing dank mist clung to the robot's chassis, a moisture that could rust its metal if exposed too long.

  Restraints held its arms and legs motionless, locked into position by restraining clamps. It could scan its surroundings, analyze, catalogue, classify, strategize, conceptualize, ionize — but it could not move.

  The robot could filter the scent, analyze it and store the data in its memory. It could measure the moisture of the air, calculate the rate at which its metal would break down into a dusty brown rust. Weigh the risk analysis on a cost/benefit algorithm, calculate probable outcomes based on the machinery available, reify the possibility of survival in a quantifiable equation.

  But it couldn’t measure the sense of foreboding, the fear, the anticipation that a human would have experienced waiting in the dank darkness, bound in place in an unfamiliar environment. Its mind wouldn’t frantically race for an escape that wasn’t there. It had no heart to race, no adrenaline to flood its systems, no breath to grow heavy.

  It could not fear.

  It stood motionless, gathering data.

  “Hello, my little machine,” a voice crackled through the dim red cling. The voice emoted a deep throatiness mixed with metallic rasp. Robot's circuits worked overtime in an attempt to classify this new voice, to understand — but it fit nothing in the robot’s data set.

  ***

  “Ooo hey, this is the alley, I think,” Isellia said, pointing excitedly, practically bouncing up and down with excitement. “There’s a great shop right down this way, right over there, let’s go go go!”

  “Isellia, I said afterwards,” Porter said, not even bothering to look in the direction of the alley as he shook his head.

  “Oh come on, Porter,” Isellia whined, tugging at Porter’s sleeve like a small child. Isellia shopped for engine parts like many girls might shop for shoes. As Joey had noticed earlier, her personality changed almost completely at the thought of collecting new upgrades for her XR. The presence of this technology and the promise of speed, she transformed into the teenage girl she was; not the grizzled, space-experienced tough façade she generally used to filter the world.

  Porter looked down at her, his face softening. He found it harder to say no to the pouty-lipped, pleading Isellia than the sarcastic perpetually bored teenager. Isellia had a unconscious knack for tapping into Porter's father complex — she worked it to her advantage more often than Porter would ever care to admit.

  “Alright, but we’re not spending hours in there. We have to resupply for our trip and meet back with the others in a timely–”

  Isellia had stopped listening sometime around “alright” and was already dragging the large bulk of Porter like a tug-ship dragging a space barge down the alley.

  In her blind fury of shopping exuberance, Isellia towed Porter into a large, semi-drunk man stumbling into the alley. Despite her size, her forward momentum coupled with the drunken man’s tipsy balance sent him toppling over onto the station’s ground, and the half-drunk Perovian beer he carried spilled into the alleyway. Isellia fell back into Porter, who caught her easily.

  “Careful, Isellia,” Porter said, restoring her balance.

  After stumbling about some, the drunk man found his feet rather quickly. He stood up tall, with slicked-back black hair, with a dark, shiny jacket framing an off-white undershirt. His brown flight pants had beer stains in various places, as well as a few cuts in the fabric. They looked like cuts left from a knife that didn’t completely penetrate the tough clothing but left long, thin lines of fray where the blade had grazed its surface.

  His face, framed by impossibly large side-burns, went from angry to an evil grin when he noticed the young lady he’d run into.

  “Well, what have we here?” The man asked, looking Isellia up and down in a manner that inspired goosebumps to crawl over her flesh. “How’s about you buy me a beer to make up for the one I spilled, huh? Whatta ya say, baby?” The jacket rose up on his body as he ran his hand through his slicked black hair, revealing more of the dingy white T-shirt underneath.

  “How’s about you leak off?” Isellia responded, flicking her nose with her pinky in the traditional Yarrow drinking culture insult.

  “Okay, let’s calm down,” Porter said, moving between Isellia and the drunk. “We’ll pay for your drink, since we spilled it. That’s fair.”

  “Get off, old man,” the drunken man yelled, putting his hand out in front of Porter like a traffic cop stopping a pedestrian. “I weren’t talkin’ to you. Now, how’s about it, sweets? Wanna rock and roll? I love a woman with spunk. Huh-huh!”

  The woman Porter and the rest of the crew had come to
know began to boil to the surface, bubbling at the top as the young man grinned and leered at her. “I’ll show you spunk, grease-hole,” she muttered, pushing past Porter and toward him. Before Porter could respond, Isellia was face to face with the man who stood nearly a head taller than she.

  His mischievous grin grew ever wider at the turn of events. “Now, that’s a little more like it, honey. You look even better up close. How ‘bout we get to know each other a little, huh?”

  “We don’t want any trouble, guy,” Porter said. “Let’s go, Isellia.”

  “Who says?” Isellia said, her glare never leaving the man’s face.

  “Trouble?” the dark-haired man asked Porter. He turned back to Isellia with the dangerous grin plastered on his face. “I ain’t looking for trouble. Just a little bit of fun.” His eyes kept falling to Isellia’s chest as he said this.

  A dangerous grin found Isellia's lips, and her posture changed slightly. “You want some fun, huh?" she said in a low, sultry voice that surprised Porter. "Okay.” Her hands reached to the zipper near the neck on her flight suit. She started to slowly unzip it, as the ruffian’s eyes, already distracted by her cleavage, grew wider as the zipper worked its way toward her belly button.

  His eyes never left that spot until a hard right hook averted his gaze, cracking the man's jaw and sending him sprawling to the ground.

  “Looks like trouble always finds us anyway,” Porter sighed, rolling his sleeves in preparation for conflict.

  ***

  A thin, snake-like cord writhed across the floor’s dusty concrete surface toward the robot’s feet. Its sensors detected danger, flashed a signal toward its main processor to warn of the intrusion, but the signal never made it. A small bolt transfixed to one of its input jack halted the flow of information from its processor to its automated parts. In human terms, the robot was paralyzed.

  The thin, metallic coil, like an arm with no master, snaked its way up the robot’s leg, around its torso and paused ominously in front of its data input port. The robot’s processor was programmed to defend any device attempting to input information, to only accept trusted, consensual data, and as the prongs on the tip of the snake adapted to fit its input, the normally green LED display on the robot’s cranial unit flashed danger red.