Bastion Saturn Read online

  The Cockney held up two fingers. “Peace bruvvers an sistus.”

  Caleb continued, “I can’t vouch for my ship holding off whatever lethal force the sign over there is talking about.”

  The Cockney pointed at his rolling robot and gave a thumbs-up sign as they began to climb the hill that the lab was set into. They were no more than halfway up when a defensive tracked drone pulled into sight, cresting the top of the lab. The machine was mat black and lethal-looking as hell. It had an arm with a hook on the end that slammed into the ground to stabilize it, then fired a burst of armor-piercing rounds from a 30mm cannon at the Cockney’s robot, tearing the thing to bits. The scavengers stood stock still expecting to be next. A general announcement burst into everyone’s helmets. “This area is off limits. Further trespass will result in the use of fatal force. This is your only warning.”

  The Cockneys slowly stepped back down the hill, and then picked up their pace as they got closer to the landing zone.

  Saanvi said to her mates, “OK. We ready to leave now?”

  Chapter Twenty-One: A Little B&E

  The Cockneys straightened their postures as they reached the landing zone. Their labored breathing broke into everyone’s helmets. The smaller one said, “Bloody ’ell! Ar bed rest driller that. Blown to pianos. Tuck yur ruck!”

  Bert started translating, Darn! Our best drill bot. It was blown to nanos—

  Caleb cut him off. “Hold up. Can any of you speak actual English that humans can understand?”

  The little one pointed a thumb at each of his companions. “Mumbles be root tooth mute. Lost his Brigham Young en a danger wager. Grumbles de same, but gots use o ah bit o it. Go ahead, Grumbles, flab er gab.”

  The big one referred to as Grumbles spoke like he had a mouth full of cotton. “Oy. Uh, I means, hullo.”

  Caleb said, “That’s better. Sorry about your bot. How we can help?”

  Spruck snapped, “Caleb? We need to get on our way.”

  “Do we? Are we in a hurry? These gentlemen seem to be in need of assistance. I suspect that we can offer that.”

  Grumbles said, “Very kindly of yuh, I’m sho. We’ve a contract to fill. Slices be getting thinner wiff duh loss o dat drilla. But we could offer a slice for your brass. I means ’ands.”

  Caleb said, “See? A slice for some help. A piece of the pie. It’s nice and potentially lucrative to offer help.”

  Jennifer said, “We have what we need, Caleb.”

  “I beg your pardon, but we don’t. What we have is a start. It’s gentlemen like these who are going to push us over the line into successful entrepreneurship.” He turned back to the Cockneys. “Do you fellows have an alternate drill?”

  Grumbles looked at his smaller companion. “You wont I should keep parlaying wiff these blokes, Georgie Boy?”

  Georgie Boy said, “Thee arh doin’ great, Grum. Carry on.”

  Caleb said, “See. I understood that. Why not talk like that?”

  Grumbles said, “We gots a pretty good ’and rig. Extra labour for us, but it’ll do.”

  Caleb said, “OK. So here’s what I propose. So far, this cop uniform of mine is keeping us safe. Can I operate your drill myself?”

  “Wiff duh help of yo bot, sure.”

  “OK. So, send your flying drone up and paint the spot you want me to dig with a laser. Me and my bot will drill there. Once we’re in, what’s next?”

  “We send in Willy. Sniffer bot. Like a dog. Ee knows what to look for.”

  Saanvi said, “I know I’m sounding like a broken record, but, I’m just going to say I told you so in advance.”

  Spruck said, “Dude, you did see that drone up there blast their bot to pieces?”

  “It didn’t blast them.”

  Jennifer said, “It offered a clear warning.”

  Bert pointed at the sign in front of the foamed entrance. “Sir, it clearly states that Article 6, Titan Weapons Code 56a is in effect. I believe that means it will shoot people.”

  Caleb said, “Bots aren’t supposed to be able to shoot at people out here. That’s the deal. No lethal robots in the Saturn System. But if that code is in effect, my cop uniform overrides that.”

  “How do you know?” asked Spruck.

  “I just do.”

  “So what if it blows away Bert?” ask Jennifer.

  “An excellent question,” said Bert.

  Mumbles mumbled something.

  “Huh? What’d he say?” asked Caleb.

  Georgie Boy said, “It’s our score, geeeza. Mumbles wool lend a Billy Bob Band.”

  “You know, I’m hearing the geezer part, and I doubt I’m older than you.”

  Grumbles said, “Leave yo bot. Mumbles will ’elp. Ee can run duh rig ’imself. You just keep duh drone away.”

  “Roger that.” Caleb waved at Mumbles. “Come on, big fella.”

  Jennifer said, “Caleb, I think this is a bad idea.”

  “It’ll be fine. If the defenses were really lethal for humans, do you think that drone I knocked out of the sky would have let me? No. It would have cut me in half with a laser.”

  Caleb and Mumbles marched up past the demolished bot, Mumbles hauling the portable drill rig, which was only possible because of the light gravity. When they reached the top, the heavily armed tracked drone presented itself again, repeating the same line, “This area is off limits. Further trespass will result in the use of fatal force. This is your only warning.” Then it recognized Mumbles. “This individual has previously received the only warning.” Before the man could even react, the machine shifted its gun and aimed at Mumbles.

  Caleb had his nerve disrupter up before he thought about it, his finger pulling the trigger before his brain actually processed the choice. The first shot messed with the drone’s visual processor enough to spare Mumbles the load of depleted uranium that was going his way, the heavy metal instead barely missing him and continuing off far into the distance. As Mumbles ducked left, dropping his load, Caleb kept firing until the drone stopped functioning, its gun drooping toward the ground.

  Caleb noted that his arms were unsteady as he continued to hold out the gun. He could feel a jitter in his hands, the slight shaking making his fingers bounce against the interior of his thick gloves. His eyes scanned for an additional menace but found none.

  Mumbles made an unintelligible groaning, but the gist of it was there. Caleb said, “You’re welcome.” Then to his companions. “No I-told-you-sos, please.”

  Everyone below slowly stood from whatever position they had ducked into.

  Natalie spoke from inside the shuttle. “Hey, guys. Thanks for the rescue by the way. Um, just a thought. It seems to me that with the exception of the sign out front, we have destroyed every warning device that was left here to keep idiots like us from getting killed by what’s inside.”

  Spruck said, “So what are you suggesting, Nat?”

  “Just that this whole thing is nuts, and I haven’t the slightest doubt that our activity has sent off all sorts of warning bells. A small army is likely headed our way. So I guess it’s best to get on with it so we can get the heck out of here.”

  “Night light flight she is, mate,” said Georgie Boy, giving Spruck a friendly chock on the shoulder. “Get to it, Mumbles.”

  “There,” said Caleb hopefully. “That whole second sentence was said with easy-to-understand words. Keep doing that.”

  “Fuzzy dice wiff de ruptor duptor, geeza.”

  “Meh, whatever.” Caleb stooped to help Mumbles pick up the drill rig and set the legs. In minutes, they had the thing churning away while Mumbles used a small shovel to push the tailings downhill. They had to add several extensions until the drill broke through. Caleb stepped back when it did and watched Mumbles unzip a pack revealing a cylinder roughly fifty centimeters long and narrow enough in diameter to slide down the hole. He pressed a button on the top and a set of eight legs briefly sprouted from the sides before reseating themselves. He made an approving groaning noise an
d dropped the machine down the hole.

  After an interminable twenty-three minutes, the little bot came scurrying back up, a green light on its top indicating a successful mission. Mumbles reached for it, and Caleb held the man’s hand back saying, “Uh, no. You don’t want to touch that even with a gloved hand. I’m going to assume that you’ve got your mold inside and that you don’t need the bot anymore.”

  Mumbles shrugged and looked down the hill at Georgie Boy. The little man said, “Zaper dap it, bruva’.”

  Caleb understood the gist of the approval and unholstered his disruptor again, pointing it at the little bot. “Even your mold could be infected. There’s no knowing for sure, but if I kill the electricity in your bot, I’m likely to kill the bugs, too.”

  It was Mumbles turn to take a step back. Caleb zapped the bot. The green light went out and the legs sprung out in unison and then slowly fell back into the cylinder.

  Mumbles nodded with approval and zipped the machine back into the pack. Then they back-filled the hole as best they could, Caleb stomping the fresh gray moon dirt with his heavy boots.

  “Right,” said Georgie Boy. “Bargain be bargain. We owdeodo you lot big time.”

  Caleb said, “Yeah, so how do we collect?”

  “You got tick tock fo a slip to Hyrrokkin?”

  “I think I’m finally getting the gist of what you’re saying. Sure, why not? Gang? A detour to Hyrrokkin?”

  “Bert, what do we have on that?” asked Spruck.

  Bert said, “Hyrrokkin is an unoccupied satellite named for a Norse giantess whose strength—”

  Caleb held up a hand. “Bup Bup! Don’t give a crap about the history. Unoccupied is enough.”

  “Slant Rant claimed, mate,” said Georgie Boy. “Got er spun up and shakin’ bakin’ that wacky saki, among udda fine libations. We get our spore over der, en we ’and over yer slice.”

  Caleb looked at Bert expectantly. The robot cocked its head. Caleb said, “The text please.”

  “Of course, sir.”

  A group of Japanese persons have laid claim to Hyrrokkin. They have apparently spun it to achieve an artificial gravity. They make what I assume are assorted alcoholic beverages. Upon delivery of the just collected mold, you will receive your share of the proceeds.

  Caleb asked the Cockneys, “Do you mind if I confer with my team?”

  “Yo butta, geeeza. Give you a diver we will.

  Caleb again looked expectantly at Bert. Bert texted, Your money, geezer. We will give you five minutes.

  The team gathered in the equipment bay of the shuttle, Caleb pacing awkwardly in his suit with the helmet off. “This is how it starts, guys. The door opens and opportunities arise.”

  Natalie said, “Not to burst your bubble, sweet cheeks, but piracy is a serious concern. We don’t know shit about these guys other than they are geared up for major theft.”

  “If they wanted to take us on, wouldn’t they have already?”

  “Not with the firepower on your ship.”

  Spruck said, “She’s got a point. They get us out there, spread us out somehow, and pick us off with greater numbers. Who knows who else they’re working with?”

  “My gut says you’re wrong. We did them a good turn, and they want to return the favor.”

  Jennifer said, “I think I agree with Caleb. What do you think, Saanvi?”

  Saanvi looked at Bert. “You’re designed to process human emotions and assess states of mind based on body language. What’s your take on these guys, Bert?”

  Bert thought, That’s an understatement. “It is difficult to make deep assessments with the subjects mostly hidden by their exosuits, but based on the fluctuations in the tone and quality of their voices, at least the ones who could speak, I am inclined to agree with Mr. Day. As he stated a moment ago, they seem to want to return the favor. Perhaps do some networking themselves. Additionally, we provide a significant boost to their security in the hypothetical event of an actual act of piracy.”

  Saanvi shrugged. “I hadn’t considered that angle. I guess we’re off to Hyrrokkin.”

  “Wait. Hold on a sec,” said Caleb. “Are you saying that you want to go because of what the bot said?”

  “I am agreeing to go because Bert’s superior ability to assess human emotions confirms what your gut is telling you. Your gut is probably right. Happy?”

  Caleb scratched at his stubble and gave the robot a squinty-eyed double take. “Sure. I guess.”

  Spruck said, “Fine. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  Hyrrokkin was yet another little rock spinning away as it traveled in a retrograde elliptical pattern around its giant mother—nothing to speak of. Yet a group of humans had settled on it, carved it out, and managed to get it to spin in a way that offered a touch of artificial gravity for its occupants. The Cockneys had managed to arrange a safe and easy landing for all of the ships, and Caleb’s team was welcomed inside as if they were entering a Japanese boutique. Residents offered deep bows to the guests before a man in traditional gray silks gently lifted a hand to guide them further into the moon’s tunnels where they entered a meticulously kept Zen garden with perfectly raked pebbles. The space, a cave really, was roughly forty meters square, with six-meter-high ceilings painted white. The ceiling reflected light that bounced off it from below, the effect giving an impression of a sky above. Bonsai trees adorned various perches and pedestals. Miniature pagodas met with tiny little bridges, and a steady sound of trickling water filled the air.

  “Welcome,” said a small man in a simple robe. He was perhaps in his midsixties, balding with long hair in the back pulled into a neat ponytail, the end of which was cut perfectly flat. The man held a pair of pruning shears and attended to a juniper that was likely hundreds of years old. The tree clung to a piece of lava rock and was shaped as though permanently standing up against a gale force wind. He addressed Georgie Boy. “I am to understand that you received assistance from these people in gaining the mold.”

  “Right friendly lot, dese ’ere. Also in duh bidness o gathering tings, dey is.” He nodded toward Caleb, who had left himself unarmed for this meeting. “Right bisq wiff an funion, dis one.”

  The Japanese man looked at Caleb, “The suggestion is that you’re a cowboy. Are you one of those American cowboys of which there are so many out here?”

  Caleb wasn’t sure how to play this one. The question was stated with such a neutral tone that he couldn’t fathom the response that the man wanted to hear. He wished he had his helmet on so he could text Bert for a reading. He finally settled on, “Cowboy might be a strong term. Where I come from, it could be considered a mild insult, indicating an intemperate personality, a person who shoots from the hip. I prefer to think of myself and my companions as those who are willing to go the extra mile.”

  The man set down his shears and stepped onto the path. “Everyone out here has gone the extra mile, Mr. Day.” He turned to Jennifer, Natalie, and Saanvi. “You three are blessed with very fair faces and figures. Unusual for brigands. Women so pleasing to the eye usually have little difficulty finding quality work on Hanson or Soul. What causes you to travel in such company?”

  Jennifer put a hand on her hip and lightly scratched her cheek. “I’m sorry, is this some unsolicited misogynist job interview? Cause we only came here to get paid and maybe meet a new client.”

  The man smiled. “How rude of me. My name is Naoto Tanaka. I am the tochan or father here. This monastery is among other things, a brewery of coveted alcoholic and life-rejuvenating elixirs. I rarely speak to those other than my brethren. We have women here, but they are on the far side of this moon and keep a separate code from ours. The adjoining tunnel is rarely in use. He looked at Natalie. You appear to be among their cast.”

  Natalie sneered, “Meaning?”

  Tanaka smiled again. It was a deeply disarming smile, full of crow’s feet and a twinkle in the eyes. “Again, I am being rude. The women with whom we share our little stone are of a warrior cla
ss. They provide private security to various concerns. In exchange for such service, they live here rent free.”

  “I didn’t notice any security when we landed,” said Spruck.

  “They do their job very well,” said Tanaka. He turned to Georgie Boy. “We are ever so grateful for the extra effort that you have made to obtain our mold. It was catastrophic to have our last batch go bad.”

  “Yeah, well, das duh last o it, gov. Place is shut down wiff some type o nano outbreak.” He nodded at Caleb. “Geeza gave it a good zap, just to be sure. But open wiff caution.”

  Caleb interrupted, “Im sorry, but there you go again, speaking in a perfectly understandable sentence. Why not do that all the time?”

  “If you don’ mind, geeeza, I’m rabbitin’ wiff de govna.”

  Caleb threw his hands up.

  Georgie Boy continued, “Like I says, last o it. Take good care.”

  Tanaka offered a bow and said, “Thank you, my friend. Mr. Kitta will arrange for payment as usual.” He looked up to the assembly. “You are all welcome to bathe and have fresh clothes printed.” He turned to Bert. “We do not have robots in our facility. However, the security company we share our moon with has a robot bathing facility. Would you like to have me request its use for you?”

  Bert briefly examined himself. “That is very kind. I am due for a proper cleaning.”

  Tanaka nodded. “I invite you all to join us for lunch in one hour. Mr. Oshima will escort you now.”

  Another monk, a younger one with his head shaved bald, came out from a pocket hidden within a wall, smiled, and waived for them to follow.

  Jennifer spoke aside to Caleb while nodding approval. “I’m liking it. Good call there, captain.”

  “Don’t jinx us.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two: The Gentle Way

  Caleb had an Italian- inspired jumpsuit printed for himself. The garment accented his broad back with a deep V. Made mostly with black with red panels that traveled from under the arms to the waist, it had a sporty look. The booties were black as well. As he admired himself in a mirror, Jennifer stepped into the common room outside the bath wearing a white jumpsuit that would have looked at home on the slopes of Aspen. She gave him a once over and said, “You look like a comic book character.”