Relic Tech (Crax War Chronicles) (25 page)

“I saw the Bible on your shelf,” Cox said. He held my gaze with a serious expression.

“Correct. A King James version.” I took a drink. “You’re welcome to read it. My mother got it for me when I was a kid. Had to memorize verses. Still read it on occasion.”

“...Thank you. I have a twenty-first century revised. It might be interesting to compare.”

“I find the older language more challenging to follow. Makes me think about each passage.”

“...Yes, that makes sense.”

The brief delay before each of Benny’s responses was like communicating through a com-link a quarter million miles away. “I read less often than I should. Too much file work.”

“...Would you like to set aside some time tonight?”

“Depends on how fast I read files, Cox. The colonists are boarding in two days. I need to be on top of things.”

“...Benny. If you get the time.”

I finished my drink. “I must be about my duties, gentlemen.”

Segreti looked up, wiping his mustache. “You’re okay, Keesay.”

“We turkeys have to stick together.”

“...Gobble gobble.” Benny grinned with a wink.

It’s always nice to end a meal with a good laugh.

I made it back to my quarters late that night. Mer and I exchanged neighborly waves before he shuffled to his room.

Benny was on the bottom bunk, pecking away at an electronic device. “Hello,” he said, sitting up.

“Hello, Benjamin,” I said offering my hand. “We haven’t really had a chance to introduce ourselves. Krakista Keesay. Call me Kra.”

“...Kra it is. Benny will do.” We shook. “Mer just left.”

“Saw him.”

“...We were admiring your carving.” He pointed toward the unfinished work on my cart. “Fish?”

“Correct,” I said. “I started it after I came on board but haven’t had much time to work on it.” I picked up the pair of guppies I’d started to whittle out of the block. “Usually I carve people. Busts. This is proving a quite challenge for me.” I set it down.

“...Looks good to me. Do you like fish, or is it for Mer?”

I nodded. “For Mer. What are you working on there?”

He lifted the small device. “Therapy. I practice responding to its visual and auditory cues.”

“Oh.” I emptied my pockets. “I’ve been sleeping on the top bunk.”

“...That is alright,” said Benny. “I hope you did not mind my intervening earlier.”

“Is Gudkov always spoiling for a fight?”

“...He is very good at his job.” Benny searched for words. “But his interpersonal skills are not the best.” He pointed to my Bible on the shelf. “I think the missionary is a priest.”

“Not very common.” I organized my equipment, and slid my revolver into a padded sheath before slipping it under my pillow.

“...Specialist Tahgs and I are very thankful for your rescue.”

“It was nothing, Benny. Breakfast tomorrow?”

“...Sure.”

“Keep working on your therapy.” I keyed in the computer to wake me at 5:15 am. “I can sleep through anything.”

“...Okay. Let me know.”

I was asleep three minutes after climbing into bed.

To achieve a balance of power, the government retained control of military forces, while corporate entities took control of purse strings and military equipment production. Corporations are limited to security forces equivalent to municipal police forces. Prisons and penal colonies are manned with more heavily armed security teams due to potential violent uprisings and the risk of escape with outside support.

After a penal colony, the only place a criminal, or even a suspected criminal, has fewer rights and greater risk of summary execution is under corporate authority during interstellar transit. In those instances, the training required to carry out the execution of sentence is as legally straight forward as the task itself.

Twice, I rolled over and fell back asleep while Benny moved about. The cramped area made even the most subtle maneuvering noticeable. I sat up.

“Sorry, Kra,” Benny said, staring my direction. “I guess I am used to being alone.” He got up from the wall console and set a memory chip on my cart. “I programmed a series of verbal command options for the computer.”

I was still waking up. “Pardon? Commands?”

“...Yes, for lights, the alarm, even some music.”

“You did that this morning?”

Benny nodded. “After I showered.” He sat on the edge of his chair. “Tried not to disturb you.”

“That’s okay.” I hopped down and stretched. “Small quarters. I could’ve done the programming.” Opening my closet storage, I grabbed my shower bag. “You’re pretty handy with computers?”

“...I am proficient. Just not as fast as I used to be.”

“It would’ve taken me at least an hour to do it.”

“...You are trained in programming?”

“Minimal. R-Tech.” I smiled, checking the computer for messages. “I can usually figure things out.”

“...The systems are user friendly. I will wait for you for breakfast?”

“Sure thing. Be ready to tell me what you think about the Chicher.” I moved on, allowing the door to close before he could respond.

I was fifteen minutes ahead of the crowd, so getting ready wasn’t a problem. Benny sat, manipulating his therapy device. “You about ready?” When he nodded, I grabbed the rest of my gear and followed him out. Benny’s leg wound made his awkward gait more noticeable. We passed two technicians monitoring several large dolly-bots securing box pallets to wall mounts. “Sure cuts down on the corridor space.”

Benny nodded. “…Every bit of cargo counts. The
Kalavar
was not designed as a freighter.”

We passed two more pallet crews. “The brackets aren’t in all of the corridors.”

“...Mainly in the crew areas. None near high-priced passenger cabins or where wide access is needed.”

Passengers. That reminded me. “Do you have anything against the Chicher?”

“...They seem okay for big rodents.” Benny scratched the base of his neck. “Why?”

“They’re our newest ally. Wonder if they consider us revolting?”

“...The Crax do not seem to care for our species.” We waited for an elevator. Benny pondered the question. “I believe I prefer big rats to giant lizards. We have one on board.”

“I know,” I said as we stepped into the elevator. “I invited him to stop by some time.”

“...You have a hard time making friends among your own kind?” His delayed wink and grin contrasted the serious tone.

We exited the elevator and made our way toward the cafeteria. “I’ll probably get along better with the rat than with McAllister,” I said. “And definitely better than Gudkov.”

“...Mer seems to like you,” he said. “Janice Tahgs does. They are good judges of character.” We entered the cafeteria. “I can tolerate chattering rodents, but I draw the line at Crax and Gudkov.”

“McAllister?” I asked quietly.

“...She can be difficult,” he said, “but brilliant. I respect her, and she has always treated me fairly.

“Understood.” Nobody was in line. I didn’t consider anything about Senior Engineer Nova McAllister fair minded. Brilliant, yes. No sense debating, so I handed Benny a tray and changed the subject. “Any recommendations?”

“...Keep away from the synthetic bacon.”

“Really? I had a serving yesterday and it seemed good enough. Better than the ham.” We moved through the line. I ordered bacon.

We sat alone. As we ate, Benny said, “After the real stuff, the synthetic is less appealing.” Benny noticed my startled expression. “Last transport run we had authentic bacon.”

I waited for him to smile or wink. “How did you manage that?”

“...The company manages it. Not an advertised perk, but once a week Negral serves the crew something special. Last run we had cotton candy, meatloaf, calamari, pears, sauerkraut, bacon, and clam chowder soup.” His fingers crisscrossed his heart. “Starts first Thursday out of port.”

We chatted, but everything else was anticlimactic. He left to visit Specialist Tahgs while I attended my meeting.

The chief was agitated and terse during the brief meeting. He assigned me to accompany Gudkov to pick up the sec-bot, and have him adjust my com-set. I’d already fulfilled my quota of questions this week and just went along.

Gudkov’s work area, near engineering, was small with tools and diagnostic equipment scattered in a semi-organized fashion. Gudkov received a transmission and responded into his collar, “Yes, I’ll be there right away.” He looked up. “I’ll be back in a moment. Don’t touch anything.”

He was daring me. He’d have his station monitored, so I just looked around at his half a dozen projects going at once. Those, plus his duties in security would keep anyone occupied. The busier he was, the better I felt. I sat on his work stool while updating my electronic notebook. I’d be tied up most of the day with colonist issues. Club had requested my assistance tomorrow in monitoring passenger boarding which was more interesting than final freight inspection, or screening passenger carts.

Tech Gudkov returned, giving me an annoyed look. “Your sec-bot is ready. Tech Schultz will bring it over in a minute.”

I got up and offered him his stool.

He responded with a lightning jab at my chin. My reflexes kicked in and I attempted to duck, knowing he’d caught me off guard. I felt my microphone jerk away with Gudkov’s right hand firmly grasping it.

My hat fell to the floor as he stepped back. With deft movements, he detached the audio sensing tip. “Almost quick.” He grinned. “I’ve got orders to replace this part.” He reached onto his desk without taking his eyes off me, and replaced the microphone. “Incorporates visual reception and transmission. Not as good as an ocular, but more than sufficient for an R-Tech.” He tossed the replaced part on his workbench before speaking into his collar. “Specialist Club, I’ve installed Keesay’s visual relay.”

He flung my headgear at me. I snatched and examined it before sliding it on.

“Acknowledged,” Club responded on both our links. “Keesay, initiate visual and audio transmission.”

I worked to adjust my com-set.

Gudkov chuckled. “Need any help with the I-Tech equipment?”

Ignoring him, I activated the proper settings and looked around the room.

“Checking transmission now,” she responded. “Gudkov, whistle, or slam your head against the wall.”

He responded by snapping his fingers in rapid succession while I panned his way.

“Up and running,” Club said. “Prepare for incoming visual trans-mission.”

“Acknowledged.” A narrow beam of light shot into my left eye.

Gudkov manipulated a hand-held remote device. “In case you’re wondering,” said Gudkov with a hint of sarcasm, “I’m adjusting the beam so that it bends properly when it hits your cornea. Close your right eye. Look ahead. Let me know when it’s centered and in focus.”

As I followed his instructions, a shifting circle of light centered in my left eye’s field of vision. “Centered.” Then, I saw a blurred image that formed into Specialist Club wheeling around in front of her monitors. “Focused...now.”

I opened both eyes and looked at Gudkov. Club’s shadowy image remained in the background. If I paid attention to it, I could see her. A little awkward, but with practice I’d adjust.

Gudkov smirked while sorting his tools.

“You can shut her down,” Club said. “Out.”

“Just like modern equipment,” said Gudkov. “You don’t trust, or like me very much?”

“Dislike? No,” I said flatly. “Trust? I’m confident you carry out assignments efficiently.”

He sat on his stool. “Would you like to go a few rounds in the gym?”

“The chief made that clear,” I said, picking up my hat. “Afraid not. I like my current assignment.”

“True. Might have your contract cancelled.” He feigned thought. “I might, too. But I have real, marketable skills.”

The door opened before I could reply. A squat triangular sec-bot preceded Tech Schultz through the door. Schultz’s stained tan uniform indicated a long shift. “Everything is ready, Senior Tech Gudkov. Awaiting final security initialization input.”

“Thank you, Tech Schultz.” Gudkov checked the ship’s chronometer. “Send a memo to Senior Engineer McAllister that the first sec-bot’s been delivered. Then get some shuteye.”

Tech Schultz shot me a glance and departed. Gudkov spun around to his workstation and accessed his computer. “This sec-bot will respond to your voice commands,” he said. “They can be overridden by all superior ranking security personnel.” His back was to me, but I sensed his gleeful grin.

“This is the sec-bot assigned to me?”

He spun around and slapped his thighs. “That is correct, Specialist Keesay.”

“That being the case,” I said, “protocol indicates that only Specialist Club and Chief Brold could countermand. All others should have emergency deactivation command.”

“Those are the parameters set by Senior Engineer McAllister. Take it up with her.” He turned around. “Are we ready for final initialization?”

I searched my memory but I lacked experience in this area of regulations. Technically, McAllister
was probably authorized to establish those settings, initially. “I request the necessary access codes to adjust the parameters.”

“Are you up to the task, C4?” Before I could answer, he continued. “Regulations stipulate you must personally program the protocol, or an authorized member of security.”

“That would be you, if I am correct?”

“You are. And as you can see,” he said with a sweep of his hand, “I have more pressing maintenance duties to perform.”

If I could get a little help, I knew I could get around the regulation without breaking it. “The codes?”

“I’ll send them in a secured file to your account,” he said, a bit surprised.

I considered reminding him never to underestimate an R-Tech. No sense giving him sound advice. “By this evening if possible. Can we get on with the initialization?” I scanned the room. “Like you, I have other duties to perform.”

He turned around and began tapping at screens. “Stand in front of the bot.” He tapped a screen and the sensors activated. “Identify yourself to the bot, and then assign it a working designation.”

“I am Class 4 Security Specialist Krakista Keesay.” I paused while I read the assigned code on the sec-bot’s front panel. “Security robot model C-19.4, series D, serial number 122166-D, will respond to Lefty.”

“Interesting,” said Gudkov. “From you I expected Nanny.”

“Specialist Gudkov, I strive not to impose my needs or desires upon you. Please grant the same courtesy to me.”

“Get out of here, Keesay.”

“Thank you for your time, Technician,” I said, heading toward the door. “Lefty, wave goodbye and follow. We have work to do.” The wheeled robot’s manipulative appendage emerged to swing twice as it followed.

“Lefty, stop,” ordered Gudkov. The robot halted. “I almost forgot something.” He took a scanning tool and ran it over several of the sensing panels. “Just double-checking calibrations.” He looked at the read out. “Everything’s fine.” He turned back to his workstation. “Lefty, follow Specialist Keesay.”

The sec-bot joined me in the hall. The door slid shut, muffling Gudkov’s laugh. I’d hoped to finish Mer’s carving but changing command parameters was this evening’s first order of business. My appointment with the colonists in their holding area was next.

Prior to our tour, Dr. Sevanto informed me that most of the colonists were fully recovered, and bored. The retaining area was biologically and intellectually sterile. A few entertainment holos were playing, and colonists occupied three of the five available computer consoles. I made the rounds with Dr. Sevanto and took the opportunity to introduce myself. The majority accepted my presence with a few pretending to. Six openly resented my presence and took to my sec-bot even less.

The young boy, Michael Watts, stopped me as I followed Dr. Sevanto out. His mother, Instructor Watts, had keenly avoided me. “Doctor,” I said,
“I’ll see you in Medical.” He waved in acknowledgment as I turned to the youth.

“Sir,” the boy asked. “What model of security robot is that?”