Chapter 3
SlimSlate
DATE:
7088.03.05,
RECON
ERA
VARIOUS LOCATIONS
Lotomi Colony, Planet Kelara, Gryanke System
We made our
way down the city streets of the capital of Kelara. The moon we were
on had been heavily terraformed over the
last few centuries, but
it
lacked the lush, bio-engineered parks of the Millennial Worlds -
worlds
that have been undergoing the terraforming process for millennia.
Here, the air still
tasted recycled, and the dirt was more dust than soil.
The young
city we
were in had
been constructed low to the ground, with the tallest
buildings topping out at the
fifth floor. I could
see the deep
blue
sky, something that wasn't possible on the corporate-owned
planets where I have
lived for the last
eight years. The
moon’s storm-banded gas giant, tinted purple because of the
atmosphere, took up half the sky.
It honestly
reminded me a little bit of my childhood home. The main difference,
which brought a smile to my face, was the orange sun in
the sky, and the
hundreds, if not thousands, of spaceships. The largest of which was
surrounded by a hive of
activity. I looked at everything with fond nostalgia, and made
sure that Forty-Five, as I had dubbed him,
was following.
I
wasn’t sure how his
programming
worked so I found it prudent to explain actions before
I took them.
I’ve had quite a few bots get
nabbed because they tried to interpret my needs and
ended up wandering off.
Once we got
to a busy intersection, I turned and spoke to my new robot. “We’re
not going straight to the ship. I need to stop by my
friend Ali’s
place to find my Slim-Slate.”
“Query.
‘Find my Device’ functionality is standard across all mobile
technology.”
I frowned
at the way he
spoke. ?
As in ‘did the FMD not work?’ Is that what he’s
I mentally
shrugged, he
might have some custom programming that allowed him
to ask questions to
clarify the task. Who
knows how old he was.
My smile widened with excitement; I couldn’t wait to check his
code and hardware.
He was
staring at me, as if waiting for a response.
“Oh!
Right. I tried searching for it, but it wasn’t anywhere on the
ship. My other tablet’s FMD doesn’t work either, so I’m kinda
going blind.” I was sheepish, even talking to a robot. Saying it
out loud that I had hacked my device just in the right way to break
some of its functionality was embarrassing enough. I couldn’t even
return it in case they ran a diagnostic and blacklisted or
flagged me.
“So!”
I changed the subject quickly. No good dwelling on stupid past
mistakes. “I’m finding it the old-fashioned way. Using my eyes.
And talking to people… Just
follow me.”
I set off
in a direction that led back to the club district. Part of me hoped
having the security bot might prompt my
girlfriend,
Ali, to remember where
the stupid thing
went.
The smell
of roasted yams and chicken bits made me salivate as
we approached the Main Market street.
The
agricultural sector on this moon was massive, with the fertile land
area larger than Ancient
Terra.
It synergised quite well with the asteroid mining industry, where the
companies still used humans for most of the work. The moon’s
proximity to the gas giant’s asteroid belt made it
an ideal launching
platform and home base for all the miners.
I faced
down the crowds, twisting my knapsack so it sat in front, keeping my
hands over the side pockets. I stepped off the pavement and… no one
came near me. They all stared fearfully at a point over my head,
dodging out of my way like I was a H.V. Industrial Magnetic Plow. I
looked over my shoulder. Forty-Five walked, dominating the space
behind me, staying exactly an arms length away.
Turning
back to the front, I felt my cheeks burn again. Auto-rickshaws and
other vehicles violently swerved when they caught a glimpse of my
newly contracted sentinel. I picked up speed, suddenly feeling
extremely self-conscious.
My eyes
roved over the stalls for a distraction. I passed by space miners
with their exo-suits rolled down and the sleeves tied around their
waists; some were haggling with linen-wearing local vendors for their
foods. The others gave either an appreciative or apprehensive glance
towards Forty-Five.
I dodged
robe-clad monks who made hand signs of fear and hate towards my
sentinel, some even brandishing their religious symbols at him.
On the
other side of the spectrum, security guards and cybernetic gearheads
whooped or saluted at our passing.
I
appreciated the farmers, wearing their metre-wide straw hats, pulling
their carts full of produce and simply ignoring us.
I even saw
tourists who wore their foreign synth-fabric ensembles, raising their
respective devices, presumably readying to take a picture. I ducked
my head, raising my knapsack quickly to hide my face and hair.
Forty-Five
took two wide strides and blocked their view of me. I looked up at
him gratefully.
“Thanks.”
He didn’t
respond, simply scanning the crowd and the buildings on either side
of us.
On
the other side of the street, a
couple
of stalls caught my eye, and I could not help myself but rush
over to browse.
Forty-Five stiffly
turned and continued his pace to follow me,
with
a robotic precision that screamed military efficiency.
One
particular stall was selling salvaged parts from the wreck yards. My
eyes started shining, lifting one component and then grabbing
another.
‘A
Restoration era gyroscope! Mint-condition light-drive coupler! And…’
I
audibly gasped, pulling out a thermal regulator from a Gen-4
surveyor class spaceship,
somehow placed in the Discount
credit
bin.
‘I
could use that on the Reckless… or sell it for triple
the profit. Or maybe
stash it...’
Something
else caught my eye, an unhinged squeal escaping my lips. A
Pre-Severance era crystal drive.
‘DATA
DRIVE!? Pre-Severance!! Could
it be….Aurate?!’
The
stall vendor got my attention, an angry, old
hunchbacked
man
with a pipe in his mouth, pointing down at the price tags. One
of his arms was a stripped-down prosthesis. He
held out a
pristine Slim-Deck
for payment,
a more finessed but less powerful version of the Slab.
I started
haggling, before switching to sign language when he pointed to his
ear. I was vicious. I was confident. And I wanted all four of the
items currently resting on top of my knapsack.
I got the
price down to a sweet 20%. I reached down to grab my Slate out of my
pocket. My hand closed in, grabbing air.
My
confident smirk faltered, my hand slapping each pocket in turn before
I slapped myself in the forehead.
I
placed the components back down, ignoring
the angry gesturing by the old man and
fished out my
bulky
Slab.
As
soon as the vendor realised what I was trying to do, he reared
back. Pulling back his own device
and making a large cross with his hands.
He
quickly signed, “No
slabs!
No skimmers! Cash or Slate only!”
I signed
back, You’re
using a Deck! And why
would I try to skim or steal when I have this?!”
I gestured aggressively at Forty-Five.
We argued
for a couple more minutes before I turned
to
took a good look at the components.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
“Analysis.”
Forty-Five’s voice cut through the thick tension between the vendor
and me,
our silent conversation having attracted a couple of curious eyes.
“Gyroscope repurposed and non-functional. Class 5 Relative Light
Speed Coupler contains a hairline fracture within the casing.”
We both
looked at him, the vendor confused and me… putting the items down
back on the stall. Schooling an offended scowl on my face.
I signed
back at the vendor, “War
bot says it’s all broken. We’re leaving.”
I stuffed
my Deck back in my bag and I haughtily marched
off, Forty-Five diligently following behind.
As
soon as we were far enough I turned
a glaring eye at the bot, “Those components were perfect, your
scanner’s broken.”
He didn’t
answer right away, doing a sweep of the street and stopping me to let
some larger vehicles pass.
“Negative.
Scanner function optimal. Observation. Components were subpar.
Additional Observation. Crowd was forming.”
The market
stalls and hawkers soon gave way to graffitied walls, broken windows
and human-shaped lumps lying in corners and side alleys. We rounded a
corner, and the stench of sick and vomit permeated the air. Alleyways
were filled with screaming and moaning party-goers, experiencing
crashes of varying intensity from the night before. I grimaced,
having experienced the aftermath of my choice of cocktail last night.
At least I had the safety of my ship and a medicine cabinet to help
with the worst of the nausea and pain.
I knew that
Ali wouldn’t be in the alleys, as
she had enough
connections to live in the apartments above the clubs themselves. I
braced myself for climbing a series of stairs, my weak legs already
protesting at the steps I was putting in. I was already walking
slower than usual, but I could rest once I was on the ship.
Pushing
through an unlocked gate that led to the upper stories, I had to jerk
back when an emaciated hand swiped at my bag. I slapped
it away, but before I could open my mouth to tell them to shove off,
Forty-Five stepped in. With a fist extended, he
moved in front of me, using his
other arm to shepherd
me away from the danger.
“Recommendation.
Do not repeat action.” His
voice
came menacingly low, maintaining the robotic stutter.
I rolled my
eyes, mumbling to myself. “Gonna need to ratchet down the security
settings.” Turning on my heel, I made another attempt to go up the
stairs. “Come on Forty-Five. They won’t try anything now.”
But the
sentinel moved to move me back instead, continuing his low, warning
tone, “Recommendation.
Immediate departure from this area.”
“What?
Why?! I need to see Ali for my stupid Slate.”
I gestured up the stairs, but Forty-Five was shepherding me away,
his
head scanning both ends of the street.
“Observation.
Multiple humans currently approaching from alleyways.”
I sighed
exasperatedly.
“Look, I
won’t be two minutes.
It’ll be in and out, and then we can leave. I need that card back
before she uses it for some illegal shit and gets
me arrested.”
I pushed
his arm, tripping
forward before taking the stairs at a limping
run. He
hadn’t been wrong; there was a small crowd of people coming in from
different alleys that were making a beeline for our position,
shambling as if they’d risen from the dead.
If I can’t
change the settings on Forty-Five, then he
might act and make sure
I’m protected but if he
got damaged then I wouldn’t be cleared to take off. And Grantham
wouldn’t let me have another bot.
Godsdamnit.
I let out a
strangled noise in frustration and picked up the pace, my upper
thighs burning with the effort. I
started frantically
banging on the door to what I vaguely remembered to be Ali’s
apartment. I rolled my shoulder to try and move my jacket up to where
it slipped off, but I didn’t have time to fix it up properly before
the door opened. I quickly brushed a stray curl from my face
instead.
A tousled
man, smelling of cheap booze and vomit, stood in the entrance. Bags
under his eyes, he blinked blurrily at me. Not my date from last
night - this one was too tall.
“Who are
you?” He leaned
heavily against the door jamb.
“I’m Mel,
I’m
looking for Ali? Is she still here?”
The
man turned around and shouted across the apartment. “Alison!
It’s Mel.”
I could
hear someone slowly stomping over, and soon Ali’s messy ginger head
appeared. She looked worse than I felt. Her skin was grey, and she
was shaking slightly. When she saw me, she gave
me a weak smile. She
looked like she hardly
slept, despite the bed hair.
“Mel,
what are you doing here!?” Her
voice cracked. “Did
some-”
“Ali.
I need my
Slate.
Give it back.” Already low on patience, I was painfully aware of
the violent
thuds coming from downstairs.
My fingers drummed against the doorjamb.
“Slate?
I don’t have
it.”
Ali rubbed
her arms, her eyes darting past me to the empty hallway, as if
checking if I was alone.
“If I did, I'd have called you. You
had it last night. I
swear. I
can’t help you.”
She tried
to close the door, I put my foot in the gap, looking at her confused.
I closed my
eyes. “Look I know
it’s early, I’m sorry. Do
you know who I went home with? I
don’t remember much.
What the
hell did you give me anyway? I had a wicked migraine when I woke up.
Felt like my brain was
splitting in two.”
Ali rubbed
her mouth nervously,
“It was just a party mix! It—it was supposed to help you let go,
feel ‘liberated’. I
didn’t think... I didn't think it would hit you that hard. Did you
really sleep-?”
“ALI!
Do
you know his name or ?”
I shouted at her, cutting her off. The
sounds of the fight downstairs had stopped. That was either very
good, or very bad.
She
flinched a bit more violently than I expected, her eyes closing
briefly. I almost thought she looked scared, “Ok,
ok. eeze,
I think his name is Az
or Azzy,
or something.
All
I know is that he’s meant to have gone off-world today. The
bouncers at the Volts might know more. Aren’t
you...late for launch? You should go, now.”
She slammed the door in my face.
What
awaited me down the
steps was enough to render me speechless with confusion. Forty-Five
stood by the stairs, hardly a new scratch on him,
but the crowd of people I had seen approaching had vanished. I looked
around both sides of the street, but it was empty and eerily quiet.
“Where’d
they all go?” I stood close to Forty-Five, in case they were still
nearby.
Forty-Five
stared at me for a few seconds, then scanned their surroundings.
“Report. Crowd dispersed after a warning was issued.”
I blinked.
I was sure I heard sounds of fighting when I was upstairs. I looked
around one more time, noticing
a fresh scuff on the pavement and a toppled trash can. I skeptically
looked back at the looming bot, standing almost too innocently in
front of an alley way entrance.
I threw my
hands up, rolling my eyes, “Alright,
whatever. They’re not here anymore; that’s the main thing. Ali
didn’t have my thing,
but I need to go talk to the bouncer at Volts.”
I hung my
head as I set off in the direction of the nightclub a few doors down,
my messy hair
falling over my shoulders again. “Just my luck that this had to
happen the day I’m authorised to leave. My
legs are so sore.”
Forty-Five
wordlessly followed, keeping a few steps behind and making periodic
sweeps of the area as we walked.
Eventually,
he did
speak, “Recommendation. Suggested departure from this area.”
“Yeah,
yeah.” I waved him off, standing up straight and running my hand to
get my hair back from my face. “As soon as I find my stupid
Slate.”
The club
had its doors open, but no blaring music could be heard, nor any
flashing
lights. Instead, a cleaner bot was cleaning questionable substances
from the entryway. Waiting next to it was a burly cyborg watching the
scene, arms crossed and certainly not impressed as I made a beeline
to him.
“Hey.”
I drew out my greeting, plastering a nervous and sheepish
smile. Forty-Five
stepped up to stand over my shoulder, his gaze locked not on the
bouncer, but the cleaner droid.
The bouncer
raised his eyebrow at me, blocking the entrance with his wide body.
His right eye and right arm were advanced cybernetic
prostheses,
earning an impressed eyebrow rise from me. Before he could fully
block the view, I caught a glimpse of the inside, bringing back a
shiver of sensations.
His head
ducked near mine, our breaths mingling.
His
hands on my hips, swaying in time with the music.
“Club’s
closed. Clear off.” A gruff and cranky voice cut through the
vision.
I
cleared my throat to try and dislodge the stupid flashback from my
head.
“I’m,
uh, looking for someone. Are you the bouncer from last night?”
The guy
snorted and then spat a loogie at the spot the robot had just
cleaned. Beeps and whistles were the only protestations from the
robot. I grimaced in disgust at the action and felt a little sorry
for the cleaner.
“No. That
was Jay, and he’s off today. Name’s
Kim.
Why?”
His organic
gaze was fixed on me, while his robotic eye analysed Forty-Five
shadowing me.
“I’m
looking for a guy named Az
or
Azzy.
I don’t know his last name.” I couldn’t help but blush at the
memories I’ve had trickle through from last night.
The bouncer
frowned at me, flicking his eyes to
my new security bot
behind me
suspiciously before shrugging. “I know ,
but he’s a merc with
the Dark Lotus, sometimes does security on the side.
He’s pretty good.”
I groaned,
Dark Lotus had a mixed
reputation, known to take
type of contract. I
mentally kicked myself.
“I think
he’s got my Slim-Slate.
Do you know where he lives or is staying at?”
The cyborg
shook his head, a smirk on his face. “I see. Sorry, girly, he likes
to fuck ‘em, then leave ‘em. He’s an in-cor-ri-gi-ble
playboy.” He loudly proclaimed the last bit with mirth but then
shrugged apologetically. “He’s probably already off-world, told
us he had a job today.”
I let out a
growl of frustration before finding the nearest hard surface and
banging my head once, twice for good measure.
‘Mel, you absolutely dumb, desperate, thirsty idiot! DARK
LOTUS?!'
“Don’t
you have a backup of your Slate?”
The guy tilted his head at me.
I flinched.
I did have a backup, but it wasn’t the illegally hacked and
modified version I had
painstakingly put
together. It wasn’t as pretty, nor as useful; on top of that, my
lost one acted as the fob for my spaceship, plus
the pictures I had saved on there.
“I do…”
“Then
why chase down some pretty boy just to get some stupid piece of
crystal
back?”
I leaned
against the wall, a nice bruise forming on my forehead. I rubbed my
neck bashfully. “That
specific Slate
has… sentimental value?”
The bouncer
stared at me unimpressed for a second before breaking into snickers.
“Sure. ‘Sentimental’. Az
is not worth it, girly.
That Slate
is as good as lost.” He leaned in then, his tone dropping from
dismissive to oily. "But you know, you're cute when you're
desperate. Why chase a ghost?
I get off at six. I could...
you forget about him."
I blinked at the sudden pivot, but my eyes didn't
linger on his face. They dropped to the heavy metallic hand resting
on the doorframe.
"I'm flattered," I said, offering him a
polite, practised smile as I stepped back. "But I'll pass. I do
appreciate the arm, though. Is that a localised actuator? The
chrome-work is very clean. Nicely polished."
I walked away, not bothering to see his
expression.
“Wait, girly!”
The bouncer called out. I looked back at him, seeing a shit-eating
grin on his face. He pointed
to
the side of his neck, “Nice hickey.”
I could
feel my cheeks burning, and my hand snapped up to my neck where my
jacket’s collar had slipped. The same spot I scratched when I was
at Grantham’s. I spun on my heel, feeling so ashamed that I didn’t
even turn around when the cyborg erupted in raucous laughter. I
quickened my steps away from the scene, not even pausing
to watch Forty-Five
hesitate, giving one last long look at the cleaner bot before
silently catching up to me.
