Port Casper (Cladespace Book 1) Read online

  “No, it’s good, Grace. ITB is a large, profitable and ambitious company,” Raj murmured.

  “Congratulations, Ms. Donner,” Tim said.

  Grace ignored the PodPooch politeness. Hearing words from the device made her uneasy. She had a dog when she was a little girl. Back on the ranch. She could tell anything to her Sport and get nothing but love back in return. The PodPooch creeped her out.

  “ITB is giving us trouble, Grace,” Raj said.

  “What sort of trouble?”

  “That company has an eye for new tech,” Raj said. “They’d prefer to steal it rather than acquire it legally. How’d you think their profits are so high?”

  “That’s ridiculous, Raj. ITB would need the smaller operators to be healthy.”

  Raj shook his head. “No, Grace. I’ve had to develop decoy tech just to keep ITB at bay. They just swiped a muscle design I put out there to keep them away from the important stuff.”

  Grace’s head started to pound. Had she made a mistake? Or was Raj stupidly anti-corp?

  “Come on,” she said, “Wyoming Compstate wouldn’t let that nonsense go on. The Americas Commerce Agreement stipulates that each tech has a price and all are licensed. New technologies, absolutely new ideas, are protected for ten years.”

  “Stealing is profitable and least detectable before the initial licensing,” Raj said.

  “So get a patent, Raj,” she said.

  “It’s not that simple,” Raj said. “The technology started as a tweak in substrate neural receptors, the mainstay of mechflesh. Loader and digger steelbacks used the tech, taking the place of manually operated machines. The mechanical servos, claw arms and bracing connected via a network of neural receptors, which in turn spliced into the roider’s natural nervous system.

  “But it’s more than just neural substrates. My brothers and I developed a neural gel that controlled, with precision, the sets of blades, sensors, lasers, and clamps embedded in mechflesh. The gel proved difficult to operate and required an exceptional mind, years of training, and a regimen of mind-altering drugs that aided the brain in interpreting the new feedback.

  “I know a lot of this is just words to you. But suffice to say, we went into lockdown with this discovery,” he said. “It was a blessing as well as a curse, as a poorly-trained mind could be seriously damaged. With all of the rush toward enhancements, no one would have bothered to wait.

  “We don’t want to destroy it. The world must have the technology. But getting patents, and then only having ten years to develop it? It would spread through mechflesh like an epidemic. We thought briefly on forming a corporation, but we’re small fish in a sea of sharks. Sell it on the open market? Sure, but then we’d have no say on who’d buy it.”

  Grace was silent, contemplating. Raj took a deep breath.

  “Lately, despite all our precautions, we’re hearing chatter. ITB knows something new is out. Intelligence-gathering: that’s what makes ITB so powerful. And guess who gathers intel? Protectors.”

  Raj sighed and looked away.

  “Sorry, Grace,” he said. “It’s still a good job. I just wanted you to realize what I’ve been fighting, here.”

  Grace said nothing. She believed Raj: there was too much in his voice and accusations to be paranoia. But the contract was tempting, and not because it was a plush job. She visualized herself as a mole at ITB. As a protector, under certain guidelines, she could play this out as a criminal investigation. If she presented sufficient proof to the compstate, she might make a name for herself right out of the academy.

  “I said I was with you, whatever you were up to,” Grace began. “Including ITB.”

  “Grace, you don’t have to—”

  “No. You don’t understand. I will take the job,” she said. “There are protocols for this, as much as anything in a protector’s job. Not everyone walks in with their eyes open, but it won’t change my investigation.”

  “Your investigation?” Tim piped. Grace refused to look at the PodPooch.

  “Understand, I won’t steal from ITB, or sabotage legitimate activities,” she continued. “Any wrongdoing? I’ll embargo the evidence for you. I’ll gather intel, wait for the right time, and then flush out the quail.”

  Raj shook his head. “I appreciate that, Grace, but ITB is more powerful than you realize. Its assets alone—”

  Grace fingered her ptenda.

  “We’re in business, Raj. Your complaint is duly noted. Brief me on everything. And I mean everything.”

  Raj stood. His rigid body posture evinced his disagreement, but there was relief in his eyes.

  “I’ll let Tim continue,” Raj said. “I should be getting back to Manuel. He has an important operation.”

  Raj walked back over to his workstation.

  No avoiding it now. Grace squinted down at Tim.

  “Raj and his brothers want to pick a company to license it,” Tim said. “The gel, that is. A company with integrity. A company with a bold, honorable mission.”

  “Not ITB,” Grace said.

  Tim’s face flickered. “Probably Unlimited Unlimited.”

  “Isn’t it just as big?”

  “Well,” Tim said, “Let me tell you a story. A year ago, the local research community was decimated by a strange coincidental string of deaths in the lab, deaths on vacation, deaths whenever.”

  Grace felt uneasy. A PodPooch was telling her a story.

  “Many engineers and scientists developing ideas in private labs lived under an indirect form of coercion,” Tim said. “The resulting mantra: sell to ITB, sell cheap, and sell fast.”

  “And UU doesn’t have that history. Right. Thanks,” she said. She looked up to where Raj was sitting at one of his workstations. This was ridiculous. She’d talk to Raj later.

  “I’m going to get some sleep,” Grace announced, and walked to her bedroom.

  She would start simply at ITB. She would cultivate trust with her new employer. She would stay alert, sniff around when safe, and give Raj an all clear or a danger sign. She would use the investigative powers granted by her license and use Raj to archive the evidence.

  The contract allowed her to move in tomorrow and report to work the next day. Grace undressed and got into bed, reaching for her guns. She laid back on the pillow. Warm. The climate control was not working properly, or else Raj liked hotter conditions.

  She smiled. The conditions all around felt strange to her. Being in trouble was starting to feel normal.

  Chapter 10

  “Black labrador!”

  “Golden retriever!”

  “The black lab will be less conspicuous in the daytime, Tim.” Raj was shuffling around the room, throwing gear into a large safecase.

  “The retriever reflects more light, Raj. Besides, I won’t be in plain view for more than a few minutes.” Tim was annoyed.

  “You can go as a golden, but you should wear a sweater,” Raj suggested helpfully. Tim’s skin turned to a golden retriever image map with a red and green plaid dog sweater.

  “You mean this?”

  Raj shook his head, giving up. Tim always turned his appearance into a game. The more Raj fought, the more ludicrous Tim became. The last time they left during the day, Tim went as a dachshund in a wiener costume. It was as if he didn’t care about being caught. Raj knew that life trapped in a PodPooch was limiting, but there had to be another way for Tim to express his individuality.

  “Hiding in the open is as good as being locked up in an apartment. No one expects to find an AI walking around on a leash,” Tim said, as different colored sweaters appeared on his body, one by one.

  “Sure, Tim. Whatever you say,” Raj muttered as he coiled wire.

  “How’s this? Found a picture of it in the K-Corp Outfitters catalog.” As Raj looked up, Tim’s body swapped maps to resemble a K-Corp soldier in black light body armor, ankle to nose.

  Raj smiled at the compromise.

  “Attention-grabbing, but it looks real. It’s perfect, Tim.”
Tim wriggled and wagged his tail. Raj hoped the fashion show was over, for now.

  “Man, you need to get a girlfriend.”

  Grace stood in the doorway. Raj froze. Grace was supposed to be shopping. How much had she heard? Judging from her expression, far more than a PodPooch would ever say. Raj grasped at another set of lies when Tim padded forward.

  “Ms. Donner, I apologize for being so rude,” Tim said. He sat down in front of Grace and gazed up at her. “I shouldn’t have kept you ignorant about myself. Raj wanted to tell you everything, but I asked him to wait until I was sure you were an ally.”

  Raj remained frozen, his mouth partly open. Grace stiffened.

  “I’m not just a PodPooch. I am remotely controlling this device, which is Raj’s creation. You may have noticed that I am having trouble locomoting this chassis. The technology is new to me.”

  Grace looked at Raj. “Is this a joke?”

  Raj held up his hands in a gesture of innocence. He wished he’d thought of Tim’s lie first.

  Grace looked at Tim again. Her right hand hovered closer to Ronnie.

  “Let me get this straight,” she said. “You are remotely controlling this device, pretending to be a toy, risking prison for illegal robotics—”

  “Yes.”

  “…for the reason of protecting your identity and location…”

  “Yes.”

  “…to do what? Help Raj?”

  “Yes.”

  “And yourself.”

  A pause. “Yes.”

  “Any other members of ‘Team Wacko’ I should know?”

  “Eventually.”

  Raj watched Grace as she removed her hand from her holster and casually started to braid her hair. The tension when Tim had approached was gone. But her eyes danced. She was weighing options, he decided. Raj wasn’t sure how much Grace would want to know about Tim.

  The braid finished, Grace gestured at Tim as though she’d always known him. Raj wondered what it cost her pride to do that.

  “All right, then. Throw me your leash, pooch,” she said.

  • • •

  A low-slung cab pulled up to the curb and stopped. The transport flashed an icon of a driver on its doors. A swarthy, unshaven Southeast Asian wearing a large pair of aviator sunglasses stepped out.

  “Good morning folks.” The driver brushed food crumbs from his cracked leather jacket and lost his slouch. He tapped a bare forearm with his left hand and the rear side panel of the transport opened. A tubular rack slid out to hang over the sidewalk.

  “Please place your gear on the rack and stand clear.”

  Grace tossed her duffel onto the rack and Raj placed his metal safecase. The driver came over to the sidewalk and opened the passenger door.

  “Hey, boy, gooood boy.” The driver went on his haunches to pet Tim. Raj flinched, and Grace instinctively pulled Tim back by his leash. Tim played an audio of a snarling dog and flashed an image map of sharp fangs.

  “Whoa okay!” The driver fled to his side of the car. “I didn’t mean to upset your dog. I like dogs. Sorry.” He ducked inside and they bundled in after him.

  “I thought transports were all automated,” Grace muttered.

  Raj moved closer to Grace. “Real drivers in Bod Town, Grace. The autonomous cabs tend to get vandalized for spare parts.”

  They quieted as the driver spoke.

  “The contract says Frawley Building. No problem. Right around the corner. Ten minute drive.”

  The driver cut into traffic. Tim crouched on the seat between Raj and Grace. Raj looked down at the PodPooch. We passed test number one, he thought, though not with flying colors. If the cabbie wasn’t wearing those ridiculous sunglasses, he wouldn’t have been fooled. Tim needed to understand how dangerous it was for him to be in public.

  The cab turned right onto Main Mall. Several blocks ahead, the Frawley stretched toward the sky, one of the first tall buildings constructed after the Steelback Coup expanded the use of mechflesh in construction. It was the obsidian black typical of the period, with one-way security glass and every tenth floor sporting a walk-around observation deck. On the floors with apartments, the private balconies extended ten meters, affording an enviable view of Port Casper. As the building climbed higher, the observation decks and private balconies varied in algorithmic lengths, giving the building the look of a giant, fuzzy black caterpillar standing on its end. Posh, Raj thought. ITB’s assets at work. It would take him years to be able to afford a place like that.

  They took a jerky left toward the building, riding through a security gate, and stopped in a queue of cars. A lift clamped onto the cab chassis and pulled them down, depositing the cab on an underground carport. A large sign read: Level U6.

  The cargo hatch opened and Raj saw their gear rolling out on the rail into another opening in the wall of the transport lift. Raj opened the door and they stepped out. The driver leaned out the window.

  “Protector Donner, your other gear will be arriving shortly and will be brought to your home.”

  “What other gear, Mister, uh…” She looked at the driver certification on the door. “Ohara?” But the cab was already being lifted out.

  “Raj, what’s he talking about? I don’t have any more gear,” Grace said. They walked through the lobby of the Frawley, crowded with people.

  “Housewarming gifts, Gracie,” Raj said, grinning. He extended his left hand. “There’s the lift. Protectors first.”

  The lift detected the lease in Grace’s ptenda. It pressurized and soared toward Floor 196. A display winked the floor numbers and a readout above read EXPRESS. They were bathed in music as they sped towards the top of the building.

  “I remember that song, Grace. What an oldie!” Raj bobbed his head to the music. “Camping at the reservoir, right?”

  “Judging by the speed of this lift, we’ll get to hear a few bars.” Grace stared at the floor counter. Raj knew that look. EXPRESS was how she was probably feeling about the last few days.

  Suddenly, the three felt their knees wobble and the lift stopped at Floor 128. The door opened. A man in a service suit stood holding two cases by their handles. An elderly woman was next to him.

  “Be careful as you step in, dear,” the man said.

  “Thank you, Martin. Are you sure I’m not taking you away from your duties? I’d feel awful if I were responsible for your falling behind.”

  Raj was distracted by the jewelry the woman wore on her hand and around her neck. It looked real, but more importantly, it looked old. Not created in a lab.

  “The residents on this floor are my responsibility, Mrs. Galena,” Martin said, “and it’s my pleasure to help out. Besides, who else would spend hours talking history with me, eh?” He paused to glance at Grace and Raj. “Pardon us, and good afternoon to you. Going up, yes?” The doors closed. The display resumed EXPRESS.

  “Excuse me if I’m being rude, Mrs. Galena, but your name is familiar where I’m from,” Grace said, moving to hide Tim. “I grew up around Cheyenne. Grace Donner.” She shook Mrs. Galena’s hand.

  “Oh you’re not being rude, dear! Yes, a long time ago it was. My family was from Cheyenne, but we settled in Casper when the mining cruisers were reaching the Moon. Back when it was plain old moon.” Mrs. Galena leaned into Grace as if to share that remark between them.

  “I knew it,” Grace said. “Just hearing your voice reminded me of home.”

  “Stop by my place any time, Grace,” Mrs. Galena said. “I’d be happy to talk to somebody from Cheyenne.”

  The door slid open. Raj was surprised that Martin and Mrs. Galena stepped out onto Grace’s floor. He saw an expansive courtyard-style hallway, with crimson carpet, olive walls, and a glass-partitioned room by the elevator. Raj and Grace stepped out after Martin. Tim hugged the wall where there were plenty of shadows.

  Martin walked ahead of them with Mrs. Galena’s cases, calling over his shoulder at Grace.

  “Ms. Donner, is it? I’m Martin Randgarten, the floor
manager. Welcome to Floor 196. I will come by and welcome you to the building as soon as I finish with Mrs. Galena. If you need anything at any time, that’s my office.” He nodded at the glass room.

  “Thanks!” Grace said.

  “By the way, you will need to keep your dog on a leash while you are in the building unless he is under contract. The building managers would like nothing better than to fine you for breaking that rule.”

  “Absolutely, Mr. Randgarten,” Grace promised cheerily. “Tim, boy! Tim-Tim! Come on, that’s a good fella. See you when you are done, Mr. Randgarten.”

  “Please, call me Martin.”

  They watched as Martin and Mrs. Galena disappeared down the corridor. To the left, a shorter hallway terminated in a door. As they approached, the door spoke.

  “Donner, Grace, 0016-Alpha. Please place your hand on the biometric pad and set a verbal password.”

  Grace slid her hand into the slot. “Open up,” she said.

  Raj smirked. He would need to give Grace a lecture on passwords.

  Chapter 11

  The door slid open and they stepped into the apartment.

  “Donner, Grace, welcome!” the doorway chimed. “Chanho, Raj, welcome!” As Tim trotted through, there was a pause and the biopad went dark for a moment before glowing green again. “Trouncer, Tim, welcome!” The door closed automatically behind them.

  “Grace, this apartment is bigger than mine! And look at this view!” Raj flopped on the sofa of the fully furnished suite. “You nailed a mango contract.”

  Tim flashed an image of a woman holding her finger up to her lips in a ‘shhh’ position. Raj sobered. He removed a cube from his coat and began walking around the room, waving the device. Tim went the other way and began sniffing.

  Grace walked the apartment silently. It was a three bedroom with a kitchen and two bathrooms, a large sunken common room, and a patio balcony with a transparent deck. A set of controls inside the patio doors managed the deck opacity and the guard wall for privacy. She looked up and saw through the bottom of the upstairs patio. A hairy pair of legs hung out from over a chair. She saw the underside of a table and potted plants.