Cyber Dreams 4.50 - Pushing Feelings Down

Thanks for all the feedback and help. :)

I changed a tiny part of 4.49. I agreed that it was kind of crazy for Mary Moon to be smirking at Juliet as she stomped in wearing the Atlas suit. Here's the new wording:

The kneeling pirates shrank back. The two synths watched her placidly, and Mary Moon stood staring, mouth agape, eyes furiously darting left to right, like a rat caught in a cage. “I said kneeling!” Juliet’s voice boomed from the power suit’s speaker, and she lifted Mister Galaxy’s arm and hurled it at her. Perhaps purposefully, she failed to consider how dangerous a six-kilogram hunk of plasteel and metallic alloys could be when thrown by an Atlas Combat Exoskeleton.

Enjoy today's chapter!

-Plum

“You killed her!” one of the kneeling crew gasped.

“Quiet! She knew the score.” Juliet frowned when she heard her booming voice, wondering where she’d ever picked up that vernacular. “Knew the score?” She stomped forward and looked down at Moon, ensuring her shivering crew member was correct. It looked like he was—the heavy blue cyber arm had caught her on the forehead, and from the twist of her neck and the glassy stare of her still-open eyes, it seemed she was, indeed, dead. “I need each of you to line up facing the door. Expose your data ports. This is your only option to avoid getting spaced.”

“What are you . . .”

“No questions. Line up.” Juliet toggled off her external speaker. “Angel, your watchdog is ready, right?”

“Yes, and Fido is making progress with the ship.”

Juliet stomped forward and turned, watching the crew members and synths line up, facing the door with their backs to her. There were only six of them—three men, a woman, and two robotic-looking synths. She spoke again, and Angel, judging correctly, sent her voice through the Atlas suit’s speaker, “I won’t murder you, even though you were here, complicit in Mary’s scheme, enabling her and Galaxy as they tortured and murdered my friend. I’m going to install a piece of software in your PAIs, however. Struggle, resist, try to run, and you won’t make it out the door.” As she spoke, she extended the data prong from the power suit’s index finger and stomped up behind the first crew member, a synth, inserting the prong into the port on the back of his skull.

“Deploying the modified watchdog.”

“It’ll work on a synth?” Juliet had assumed so, and it looked like Angel did, too, but she was curious how.

“Yes. The synth’s mind is much like a PAI with some extra functionality. The watchdog I wrote is clever enough to infiltrate all the systems. Please tell the crew that this will go easier for them if they accept the prompt that appears on their AUI to install third-party software.”

“When you see the prompt, accept it; otherwise, I’ll have to brute force your PAI and maybe give you brain damage.” Juliet was, of course, being hyperbolic, but it felt good to see the pirates flinch as her voice boomed out of the speaker with the threat. One by one, she walked down the line, installing the monitoring software, and when she was done, she asked, “Does this ship have a good-sized fridge?”

“Yes,” one of the synths answered immediately. “There’s a walk-in fridge in the kitchen adjoined to this mess hall.”

“Okay. As you all probably guessed, I can keep tabs on you. Cooperate, do what I say, and you’ll live through this encounter with me. I want you all to scour this ship for weapons of any kind. Ransack the crew quarters, including your own, and bring every gun, knife, grenade, or anything in between to this mess hall. Secondly, I want you to gather all of the dead bodies and put them in the walk-in. You have one hour to be back here with a progress report.” When only the synths got moving and the pirate crew shuffled less than enthusiastically, she cranked the volume on the suit’s speaker and roared, “Move!”

That got them started, and when they’d all cleared out of the mess hall, Angel said, “I can easily see and hear whatever they do. If they attempt to remove their PAIs, the watchdog will deliver a jolt to their central nervous system, stunning them.”

“PAIs can do that?”

“Not with standard safeguards, but I’ve disabled those. Don’t worry—the watchdog alerted them of the consequence.”

“I know it seems like I’ve gone to the dark side, using Grave’s tool and all, but it’s just temporary. These folks are going to face justice soon.” Thinking of going to the “dark side,” Juliet turned to regard Mary’s body again. She couldn’t find any guilt in her heart. The pirate queen had deserved what she’d gotten. She stooped beside the body, turned it, and inserted her data prong into Mary’s port. “Did her PAI do a death wipe?”

“No, it’s still active. Bypassing the ICE . . .”

Juliet smiled grimly. “So the rough, tough pirate didn’t have a deadman protocol on her PAI, huh?”

“I’ll be in control soon, but Fido has full access to the ship’s systems now.”

“No external comms, right?”

“No, but I have sensor data. The pilot ship has begun burning deeper into the belt, and the Sharp Lady is circling this vessel from a safe distance. They probably don’t know what’s happening since you knocked out their comms.”

“I didn’t really think this through. How can we get them to come closer? You know, make ‘em feel safe like Mary won?”

“We can use external lights to signal them. They’re both still in visual range.”

“Ah, yeah, like Morse Code?”

“Exactly like that. What should I say?”

“Hmm, something like, ‘Lacy is dead. Return to help with repairs.’ What do you think?”

“It seems good, but give me a minute to finish with this PAI; there may be an authentication code the pirates use.”

“You’re smart, you know that?” Juliet sighed and tried to relax inside the Atlas, avoiding the front cam where Mary’s corpse lay. Some of the tension had left her, and though she was still partially numb, she could tell the nanites were hard at work because she’d stopped tasting copper in her mouth and could feel her throat when she swallowed. She had an idea of what she wanted to do with the Red Betty and its crew, and as she thought about it, she figured she might as well include the Sharp Lady in those plans. As for the pilot ship, it was a tiny vessel with mismatched parts, and she didn’t care much about it. Besides, that one belonged to all the pirates, not just Mary Moon, and Juliet still needed some cooperation from a few key players in Hereford’s Vengeance.

“I’ve broken the PAI’s security and am scouring the . . . aha! They do have a rotating authentication code. I’ve got what I need. Shall I transmit the message?”

“Yeah, go for it. While you’re in there, what else is good? Do you have her biometrics and her access codes to the base?”

“Yes, I’m getting everything. Judging by her comm logs, she wasn’t planning to uphold a bargain with Lacy, even if you’d hurried back with the findings from the gas harvester. There’s a conversation between her and Mister Galaxy, trying to determine the optimal time to ‘take you out’ once you’d delivered the intel.”

“Why am I not surprised . . .”

“Juliet, one of the crew is asking if they should bring Nick’s corpse here.”

“Oh, God.” Juliet straightened up, pulling her data prong out of Mary’s port. “Um, no. Tell them to leave him alone. Can you guide me there?” Juliet left the mess hall, following Angel’s directions but desperately trying to think of anything other than what she was doing. Part of her wanted to finish dealing with the pirates, and part wanted to get out of the Atlas suit. Still, another part was glad she was in it; the horror of the situation, the violence and wreckage, all seemed a bit distant, almost abstract, from within the hard metal shell of the power armor.

As she walked, she kept distracting herself by making plans. “Tell the synths to repair the main comm antenna when they’re done collecting the dead pirates.”

“I will, and you’ve received messages back from both ships. The pilot ship insists on returning to base, claiming the missile damaged life support. The Sharp Lady is requesting permission to dock.”

“How long would that take?”

“Approximately fifteen minutes.”

“Okay, give permission. We’ll meet him at the docking collar after we . . . after, um, Nick.” Thinking about Nick, about what she’d do with him, an idea occurred to her. “Can you finish docking the med ship? We must be very close to it, and Fido has control, right?”

“Yes, it will be trivial. I’ll direct the Sharp Lady to a different docking collar. This ship has three.” A few minutes passed, then she said, “We’re now docked with the med ship. Shall I engage the drive so there’s some gravity aboard?”

“What about the Sharp Lady?”

“It will be easy to match our velocity. I’ll give us half a G of thrust, okay?”

“Sounds good.” Not long after that, Juliet stood before a partially open plasteel door and could see from her mini-map that her destination was the room beyond. She hesitated there and knew her palms would be clammy with stress and dread if she weren’t in the Atlas.

“I can’t do it like this.”

“You could have one of the synths move him . . .”

“No, I mean in this suit.” Juliet navigated the menu, hovering over the “Discharge Pilot” option. “Is the air safe? Did the bulkheads seal off that explosion?”

“Yes. Fido has isolated the damaged section of corridor B14.”

Juliet made the selection, and the hulking suit bent its knees, leaned forward, and, with clicks and hissing air, lifted the front torso armor, opening up so Juliet could climb out. She pulled out the cable connected to her data port and the one connected to her undersuit, then stood and laboriously pulled her right leg out of the impact gel lining. Once that was done, she could step onto the suit’s knee and pull her other leg out. She almost fell as she climbed to the deck in her form-fitting undersuit because her torso didn’t move smoothly; it was stiff and numb.

When she finally stood on the decking, one hand resting on the power armor’s powdery black paint, she looked down at her chest and saw no evidence of her injury save a dark gray line where her suit had mended itself beside her right breast. Juliet touched her fingers to the scar, pressing against her flesh beneath, but it was numb. “He almost hit my heart.”

“Yes.”

Juliet shook the thought away and pushed the plasteel door open, exposing the interior of the little room where Nick had died. It looked like some kind of storage space with several plasteel carts secured to the rear wall. In the center of the room, like a scene out of a spy thriller, Nick sat, bound to a chair that was likewise bolted to the decking. He was slumped forward, his shaggy, gray-streaked dark hair hanging over his face. Juliet could see blood pooled on the deck beneath him, dried now but not terribly old. Tears pooled in her eyes, rapidly spilling down her cheeks as she walked toward him, dread in her heart.

She didn’t want to see his face, didn’t want to know what they’d done to him. She was scared his eyes would be open and that she’d see horror in them. Suddenly, she was terribly grateful that Angel hadn’t let her watch the video of his murder. She stopped a few feet before his slumped form and clenched and unclenched her hands in the gloves built into her undersuit. “Angel . . .”

“You can do it, Juliet. There’s a knife on the cart there. Cut his bonds, and we can carry him to the med ship.” Angel’s voice was firm but full of empathy, making Juliet cry harder. She felt her nose stuffing up, felt the sobs in her chest and throat fighting to come out. She ground her teeth together, clenching her jaw, and did what Angel asked, picking up the blood-stained knife and slicing through the shrink cords holding Nick’s wrists and ankles to the chair. She let the knife clatter to the ground and grabbed his shoulders as he began to slump off the chair.

Nick had been dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, and when she grabbed his shoulders, his arms felt stiff and, obviously, lifeless. When Juliet pushed him upright and saw his face, saw the purple bruises, the cuts, and other damage, the sobs came on strong, and she couldn’t, wouldn’t stop crying as she hoisted him up, cradling him, putting most of the weight on her cybernetic right arm. When she left the storage room, she looked at the power suit and frowned. “What should . . .”

“I’ll put it in maintenance mode and have it walk behind you.” With a clattering shudder, the exoskeleton closed up and lurched upright, pivoting to face down the corridor. Juliet nodded and, with the hulking armor keeping pace, made her way to the airlock where her ship awaited. She didn’t pass any of the watchdog-bearing pirates, but she wasn’t worried about it if she did—they’d find themselves twitching on the floor if they tried to lift a hand against her.

At some point in her long walk carrying her dead friend, she stopped crying and succumbed to numbness. She’d just put Nick down on one of the med bay beds and was digging through the cabinets for a body bag when Angel let her know the Sharp Lady had docked with the Red Betty. “Lock it down and tell the pilot we need to fix a hull breach before opening the airlock.” Juliet found what she was looking for and got to work, tucking Nick into the thick, black material. When she pulled the zipper up and latched it in place, the bag hummed as the little built-in pump sucked out the air, pumping it through a tiny filter.

Juliet put her hand on Nick’s chest and sniffed noisily, trying to wash the sadness out with the deep breath. “I’m sorry, Nick. I’m really sorry I let this happen to you, and I’m sorry I was always so guarded with you. I should have shown you more affection. I should have hugged you and thanked you for all you did for me. I’m sorry I gave you such a hard time about your vape, and I’m sorry I didn’t defend you when your neighbor said I was out of your league. I’m sorry . . .” Her earlier resolve to stop sobbing broke down, and she could barely choke out the words, “I’m sorry I ever came into your life.” As she said the last, she fell forward, draping herself over the body bag and weeping uncontrollably.

She lay there for several minutes, feet on the ground, but her body fully supported by the table, and by the time she stopped crying, there was a puddle on the floor where the tears had run down her nose to fall to the plasteel. Nick’s death was hitting her harder than any loss she’d ever felt, and she couldn’t tell if it was because she’d grown close to him, because she’d had some role to play in his death, or because of the horrible circumstances, the method of his demise. She’d lost people she liked, even cared about before. She’d felt horrible when some of the people she’d met at Grave died. Still, something was different about Nick.

“I feel . . .” Grasping for a comparison, she zeroed in on one and said, “I feel like Tono did when Lexi died. I feel just like that! I feel sick with the loss and guilty, Angel! What am I going to do?”

“Juliet, I feel awful about Nick, too. I don’t know what to say other than the usual platitudes—with time, it will get better. I’m so sorry. I . . . I’d hoped you’d stay friends with him. I even hoped you’d share some affection . . .”

Angel’s shared loss and well-meaning words were more than Juliet could take, and she groaned, standing up to thump her clenched fist against her forehead, making a weird, despairing keening sound. She could hear Angel trying to comfort her, trying to get her to breathe and focus on something else “for now.” She couldn’t listen to her, couldn’t stomach the guilt of knowing that Angel, too, felt sad but was handling things a lot better than she was. Finally, after several long minutes, she said, “I’m okay, Angel. I’ll deal.”

She walked to the med bay door and slapped her palm against it, stepping through and closing it behind her. As it clicked shut, the separation seemed to help, and she imagined her grief was still in there with Nick. Out here, she needed to focus, needed to get things done. There were pirates to handle, a billionaire to humble, and some system-shaking secrets to manage. She returned the Atlas suit to the secret hold, dressed in her combat armor and helmet, and then returned to the Red Betty. As she walked to the airlock where the pilot of Nick’s pirate ship waited, she asked, “Angel, I know the watchdog is handling those two synths, but can we just factory reset them and delete all the junk the pirates put in there?”

“Easily.”

“Can you give them a piloting program? Nothing fancy, but enough to get from here to, say, half a day’s flight from Luna?”

“Again, easily.”

“All right, cool. Two ships, two pilots.” Juliet stopped at the intersection ahead of the airlock and stepped out of sight in the right-hand passage. “Tell the pilot it’s safe and to come out.” She waited until she heard the airlock hiss open and then click shut again. She confirmed in the camera feed that the pilot was out, and then she stepped around the corner and pointed her shotgun at him. “Get on your knees. You have five seconds.”

“Jesus!” The pilot jerked back like he’d seen his grandmother’s ghost, slamming his shoulder against the closed airlock. He frantically pawed at the door panel, but Angel had locked it.

“Three seconds.” Juliet continued to stride toward him, her boots clomping on the plasteel. “Two!”

“Wait, wait! Okay!” The pilot, still wearing a patched-up, red flight suit and a white helmet, struggled to get to his knees, bouncing awkwardly in the low Gs.

Juliet lowered her shotgun and pulled her data cable out. “Take off your helmet. I need to connect and give you some software. Unless you’d rather die?”

“No, no. Okay. Don’t kill me.” He reached up, touched the release at his neck, and popped the helmet off. Juliet didn’t recognize him, which was good, she supposed. After shedding her grief, she was feeling decidedly violent, and if he’d looked like someone who’d given her or Nick trouble before, she might have snapped.

While Angel installed the watchdog, she spoke into the interior of her helmet, “After we get this ship squared away, we’ll fix up the two synths as pilots. I’ll send them and the crew to Luna for Shiro to pick up and collect the crew bounties. I’ll tell him to either scrap these two ships or sell ‘em for a percentage. After that, we’ll use the info we got from Mary’s PAI to set up a meeting with Roy Tornado and Antigone. We need to put Sir Rodric’s downfall in motion. Even with Nick gone, I want to get Larry and Cleo out of trouble.”

“I’m eager to hear about your plan for Sir Rodric. If you think about it, none of this would have happened if he hadn’t leveraged Roy and had Larry recruit Nick . . .”

“That’s right, Angel.” Juliet clenched her fists, one of which was right in front of the kneeling pilot’s face, and she heard him whimper. For a second, she felt a little sorry for him, but then she remembered Nick’s cold, lifeless body, and she pushed that feeling down.