Cyber Dreams 4.27 - Auction

Enjoy the chapter and your weekend :)

-Plum

Juliet stepped off the tram in front of the enormous hangar building that was built against the southern edge of Callisto’s main dome. The sidewalk outside was crowded with people standing around chatting, eating snacks from the food carts parked outside, and milling about, moving in and out of the wide-open, truck-sized doors in the front of the gigantic plasteel structure. She could see, over the heads of the people crowding the entrance, the sleek shapes of the ships currently up for auction.

“Nick is just to your left, wearing an orange raincoat and eating some steamy potato crisps.”

“Uh, thanks for the colorful description, Angel.” Juliet approached the pilot, tugging the collar of her jacket up; it was downright chilly in the dome that morning.

“Yo, Nicky.” She waved as he looked up.

“Hey, Lucky. Larry’s not here yet. You, hungry?”

“Ate on the way, thanks.” It had been two days since their meeting, and Juliet was feeling much more like herself. She’d spent most of the time in her hotel room, sleeping, reading, and consulting Doctor Ming about her strange behavior. After lengthy discussions about Juliet’s feelings, her history of interacting with people, and a torturous explanation of her experiences inside the heads of other people, they’d come to the conclusion that Doctor Ming wasn’t exactly qualified to tell Juliet why she’d behaved the way she had.

Ming seemed to understand, at least in theory, what Juliet meant when she described her usage of the psionic lattice, but he could only speculate on the possible causes for her erratic behavior. He theorized that Juliet might, indeed, be absorbing personality traits when she used the lattice to snoop into peoples’ thoughts, especially when she performed “deep dives,” as she’d been calling them. He even went so far as to speculate that she might be constructing the roots for entirely separate personalities, which was terrifying to Juliet. The good news was that the foreign traits seemed to fade over time.  Ming insisted that Juliet must recognize those impulses at odds with her usual behavior and avoid acting on them. That was the tricky part—realizing it was happening in time to “not act.”

Of course, it was all theory. Juliet had spoken with Angel about Ming’s findings, and Angel had, of course, spent a lot of time researching multiple personality disorders and trying to compare those findings with Juliet’s behavior. She’d helped to reassure her that her experience with the lattice was unprecedented and that Doctor Ming was just an AI simulation, unable to truly learn or understand all of Juliet’s myriad experiences, particularly where the lattice was concerned. She helped Juliet with mindfulness exercises and meditation, helping Juliet to “ground” herself. Juliet had, of course, balked at first, but the discussions and reflection really seemed to help. She hadn’t had an outburst since her shopping trip, nor had any unexplainable waves of emotion overcome her.

Nick stuffed the last of his crisps into his mouth and crumpled the little paper sack in his hand. “You’ve been quiet the last couple of days. Everything good?”

“More than good. Getting some much-needed rest. How about you?”

“Oh yeah. Just setting my affairs in order. Figure there’s a good chance my beneficiaries will be cashing in soon.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets and shivered.

“Looking for sympathy? At least you have beneficiaries!” Juliet snorted and rubbed at her nose, numb with cold.

“Let’s put a pin in that one. I’m interested to learn why you feel so alone in the universe, but I think we should go inside; I’m freezing my balls off.”

“Lovely.” Juliet chuckled as she followed Nick into the hangar. Her eyes were instantly grabbed by the ships on display—half a dozen interceptor-class fighters, a couple of heavier gunships, and, further toward the rear of the space, a hulking shape that must be the “Detroit Industries, Lobo IV, combat transport,” listed on the digital placard out front. It was much taller and boxier than the fighter ships but still angular enough to handle atmospheric flight. Nick had eyes only for the interceptors, though, and he turned that way, steering Juliet away from the heavier ships as she mentally started to compare them to the as-yet-unnamed Takamoto ship back on Luna.

“You ever fly something heavier? Like those gunships?”

“Heavy fighters are cool, but they’re probably out of our budget, and those two aren’t exactly best-in-class. I’d rather get a well-equipped interceptor.”

“Makes sense.” Juliet followed behind him, admiring the sleek lines of the interceptors, trying to determine for herself which ones were quality ships and which ones they might be better off bypassing. Her efforts were futile, though, because Nick narrated his thoughts as they walked, and she found what he had to say too interesting to ignore.

As they approached the first sharply angled, red-and-black-painted ship, he said, “This one has nice lines. That’s a Holstrum Dart, and I’ve flown one before. Shot a few down, too. Holstrum’s been making these for nearly two decades, and they don’t change much from year to year. Let’s see, yeah, this is a 2102 model, so pretty damn current. Put this on our ‘maybe’ list, and we’ll come back to check the components if we don’t see something better.”

“Okay . . .”

“You don’t have to make a list; my PAI is taking notes.”

“Yeah, I figured.” Juliet studied the ship as they walked past, noting the crowd around it. Many of the would-be bidders were “kicking the tires,” so to speak, opening panels, looking at serial numbers, and climbing up the ramp into the ship’s tiny hold. Angel highlighted a few things for her, labeling them in her AUI—barrels for four twenty-millimeter auto-cannons, a deployable “four-port, Brimstone missile launcher,” and several sections of hull that were missing armor plates; Angel noted that the hull was four centimeters below the armor level, indicating shoddy patching.

By the time she turned back to Nick, he was already at the next ship and giving his assessment, apparently unaware or uncaring that she’d lagged behind. “. . . almost like new, and I don’t like the factory specs at all. Those maneuvering jets are woefully underpowered for the kind of flying I like to do. Cross this one out unless the client’s willing to drop two hundred K on upgrades.”

Juliet thought she could figure out what he’d been saying. The ship was smaller than the Dart, but it looked brand new. Apparently, Nick wasn’t a fan of the ship’s default equipment.” She followed him to the next ship and expected him to walk right past it, but he didn’t. He stopped walking and grew quiet for a few minutes while he ran his eyes over the battered, scarred-looking hull. Juliet followed his gaze, reading the information Angel provided on her AUI.

It was a Bosse Industries Starcatcher, and the manufacture date said 2077, making it more than three decades old. It was a lot bigger than the dart, almost big enough, in Juliet’s admittedly inexperienced opinion, to be considered a heavy fighter. It didn’t have cannon ports on the nose, but a remote turret hung below the cockpit with a three-hundred-sixty-degree firing arc. Another turret sat behind the tall, pockmarked tailfin, and judging by its armor, it was clearly meant to fire only toward the rear. Old-school missile brackets lined the wings, seven on each side. Overall, the ship looked extremely aggressive, with a rectangular fuselage that narrowed to a point, almost making it look like a wedge.

“Kind of old-fashioned looking, isn’t it?”

“It is old-fashioned, but it's one of the best ships ever made. This one’s seen some shit, too. I’d bet my lunch there isn’t much stock equipment left on this bird.”

“That’s . . . good?”

“Yeah, that’s good. Look at the size of those maneuvering thrusters on the undersides of the wings. This old girl can move.” Nick glanced down the aisle, briefly considering the three ships he hadn’t examined yet, and shook his head. “This is the one. Where the hell is Larry?”

Juliet scrutinized the ship some more. It was mostly painted red, but a considerable percentage of the hull was blackened, and hundreds of dents, divots, and grooves were carved into the armor. It had definitely seen some shit, as Nick put it. “You think the armor’s ok?”

“That’s just cosmetic. You should know that! A little time with a welding rig and some armor scraps, and she’ll be ready to rock. Besides, it’ll scare off a lot of bidders.” His eyes went distant for a second, then he smiled and added, “Larry’s here. Let’s wait here for him so he can make a bid.”

“You’re sure this is the one, huh?”

“Yeah, I think so.” He nodded, tapping his breast pocket for his Nikko-vape. “If I’m going to impress anyone with my flying, this is the kinda bird that can do it. She’s no Lady, mind you, but she could be something special with the right touch.” He stepped forward and rested a hand on the scarred-up fuselage just behind the front turret. “Yeah, you’ve been through some stuff, but you came out the other side, didn’t you?”

“You like her, huh?” A woman wearing a stylish red dress stepped under the turret from the other side of the ship, holding one hand atop her matching red hat as though afraid she’d bump it on the plasteel above her head.

“Oh, it’s not a bad bird, but it’ll take a fat bankroll to make her fit for duty.” Nick shrugged and dragged on his vape, stepping back toward Juliet.

“That so?” The woman continued forward, and Juliet took her in—tall, slender, middle-aged, dark hair and the kind of makeup that takes a while to apply. What was she doing looking at fighter ships? “Seemed you were more interested while explaining the ship to your apprentice here.”

Juliet snorted. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, the way he spoke to you, I thought he was teaching a class or something.” She had a droll tone in her voice like she knew she was being funny but didn’t want everyone to be sure about that. “I’m Matilda Ramone. I run . . .”

“Oh, c’mon, Matilda! You recognize me!” Nick sighed and shook his head. “She’s a fixer. Matilda, I’ve done about seven or ten jobs for you. Nick Grant.”

“Oh, is that you, Nicky? I should have known! Now I see it! I think your ID photo could use an update, young man.”

“Young? I’m at least your age . . .”

“Heavens! Don’t mention a lady’s age!” She winked at Juliet, whose mouth was hanging open at the sudden twist in the conversation. She took another step toward Nick, clearly getting inside his comfort bubble, making him visibly squirm. “What happened to the Lady Hawk?”

“She’s fine!”

“Well, why are you here?”

“Helping a friend pick a new bird! Cripes, Matilda, why are you all up in my business?” Nick sucked on his vape again, nodded to Juliet, and jerked his thumb toward the hangar entrance. “Let’s go.”

“Well, it was nice seeing you, Nick! Don’t be a stranger! I’ve got five jobs off the top of my head you’d be perfect for!” She practically yelled the last sentence as Nick motored away, Juliet hot on his heels.

“What the hell, Nick? I’ve seen some hasty retreats in my day, but you ran like you owed her money.” Juliet tried to hide her laugh as Nick slowed, turning to scowl at her as they approached the dense crowds near the entrance.

“Where the hell is Larry?” He scanned the clusters of people, ignoring her question. “There he is. Larry!” Juliet followed his gaze and saw Larry approaching with his two goons close behind. Nick turned to her and quickly, quietly said, “That woman is nuts! I had a . . . thing with her, and she totally forgot me. Like, a week later, after we, you know,” he stuck his pointer finger inside his other hand, pulling a snort of shocked laughter out of Juliet, “she called me to schedule a lunch so she could ‘introduce’ herself.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah! Swear! Anyway, it’s best we don’t stand around that ship and act interested.” As Larry walked up, Nick changed topics instantly. “Larry! I found the one you need to buy. It’s the Bosse Industries Starcatcher.”

“Well, hello to you.” Larry chuckled, then looked at Juliet, holding out a hand. “Lucky.”

She took his hand in hers, smiling warmly as she shook it. “Don’t mind Nick; he’s all discombobulated ‘cause he ran into an ex.”

“Oh?” Larry raised an eyebrow.

“All right, all right. Is that going to be a problem? You good to make the bids, or do I need to hang around?” Nick seemed genuinely agitated, and Juliet started feeling a little bad for teasing him. He sucked on his vape again, ramping up his nicotine intake to levels she’d not seen in a couple of weeks.

“Sorry, I was teasing you, Nick.”

“Eh, it’s fine. I do have things to do today, however. So?” He eyed Larry, waiting for the fixer to give him a response.

“Well . . .” Larry’s eyes were distant, and Juliet knew he was studying his AUI. “Looks like you didn’t pick the most expensive fighter here. It’s a silent auction, and there are only two bids on it. Still, I hate it when I can’t look the bidders in the eye, you know? You think this one’s worth it, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s the best option in this auction.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets, then jerked his head toward the open doors. “Well, I did my part. Now you do yours. Win that bird.” Nick smiled, sucked on his Vape, then added, “See you later. Lucky, I’ll give you a call when Larry gives me the good news.” With that, he sauntered out of the hangar, and Juliet had to wonder if he was putting on the macho show to save some face after his retreat from Matilda. She watched him leave for a moment, then turned to Larry and the two hulking bodyguards lurking behind him.

“You had to bring your muscle?”

“Never know when one of my many enemies might make a move.” He grinned his golden grin, and Juliet desperately wanted to talk to him about the bug in his head. She supposed she could turn on her jammer; if she removed the bug in Larry’s head before she turned the jammer off, it could never report . . . “You okay? Staring at me like I swallowed a bug.”

“Oh, no, sorry. I, well, I was thinking about something, and you happened to be in front of my face.” Juliet forced a smile and pushed the idea out of her head; this wasn’t the place to break things down for Larry. “I guess I’ll head out.”

“Hey, hey, one minute!” Larry held up a ring-bedecked hand. “I never got a chance to confirm with you that you’re all set. You got what you need equipment-wise?”

“I did.” Juliet shook her head. “I’m good. What’s the big plan? Did you talk to Nick about how we’re going to, you know, insert ourselves?”

“Oh yeah. He’s aware of the whole thing, but it’s not something we should talk about right now. Probably not slick to be seen chatting me up anyway, not if you’re going to be pulling off a . . . you know, a certain type of identity soon.”

“Speaking of . . .” Juliet frowned and put her hands on her hips.

“Oh, right, right. I’ll be sending you an encrypted file soon. Our client’s paying the big money for a well-vetted background for you. I’ll attach it to the contract.” Larry reached up to adjust his hat, and Juliet wondered if it was some kind of tell. Should she try to read him again? She shook her head at the idea; no, she’d been inside Larry’s head plenty, and her experiences over the last few days made her leery of casually reaching into people’s heads.

“Right. I’ll be on the lookout for that file. See you soon, Larry.” Juliet winked at his two chromed-out gorillas, then made her way out of the busy hangar. She went straight back to her hotel. She’d decided to keep a low profile while waiting for the job, and that wasn’t entirely because she’d been exhausted and worried about her mental state. She figured the less she showed her face around town, the fewer people might possibly recognize her when she was trying to pass herself off as a pirate in a few days.

Inside her hotel room, she flopped onto the bed, booted feet off the side, and said, “Angel, I’d like to talk to a friendly face. I wish we could call Luna without a delay.”

“With the current positions of Luna and Callisto, you’re only looking at a thirty-five-minute delay both ways. If you sent a message to someone, we could be watching the response in about an hour.”

“That’s seeing the bright side! Okay, who should I message? Aya? Bennet?” Juliet hesitated a few seconds, then added, “Honey?”

“I think you’re most likely to have a positive outcome from a message to Aya or Bennet, but if Honey did respond, I believe it would provide the largest mood boost.”

“What the . . . are you, like, calculating my positive feelings or something?” Juliet pulled out her Texan and began idly twirling it on her finger, trusting Angel to keep the electronic safety on while her finger dangerously bounced on the trigger. Many of the cowboy heroes in the books she read twirled their guns, and she was trying to get the knack for it—just for fun, she told herself.

“Not exactly. Though I find the concepts of Utilitarianism fascinating, that was one of Mill’s downfalls—the difficulty in measuring and quantifying happiness. What I meant was, knowing you, I think you’d like to hear a positive message from Honey. You won’t talk about it much, but I think it hurt you how she seemed to ‘blow you off’ during your stay on Luna.”

“You think I should tell her? I feel like I was too passive about the whole thing. I just kind of was like, ‘Okay, whatever,’ but I think I should have said, ‘Hey, Honey, listen, you’re hurting my feelings here!’ You know?”

“What could it hurt? Your relationship seems strained from the silence.”

“Okay, record me. Ready?”

“Ready!”

“Honey, hey, I’m still out in the Jovian System, but I wanted you to know I miss you. I was thinking I could stand to see a friendly face, someone who means something to me, you know? Well, your face came to mind, and, dammit, I’d like to hear something meaningful from you! I feel like we were just distant friends when I was last on Luna, just surface talk, and that’s not right! I freakin’ flew to Saturn to save your ass! I fought pirates, mercs, shit, I almost got sliced in half by a crazed samurai, and, holy moly, there’s more about that I’d like to tell you, but I guess this message isn’t the right place. Come on, Honey! Message me! Don’t leave me hanging.”

“Sent!”

“Shit, Angel! I wanted to think about it a little before I committed . . .”

“I knew you’d chicken out, so I sent it.”

“You’re cruel, but you’re right.” Juliet groaned and flopped over, burying her face into the pillow, squeezing her eyes shut, trying to imagine Honey’s response to that rambling, venting monologue. “Well, nothing to be done about it.” She pushed herself up and scooted to the foot of the bed, contemplating what to do to kill the time. Read a book? Play with her telekinesis? Clean her guns? She twirled her pistol again, and that’s when, with a thunderous bang, her door burst open in a shower of engineered wooden splinters and particles.