Cyber Dreams 4.26 - Pirate Shopping

Hopefully, this chapter adds a little more clarity to the "Juliet acting out of character" bit from the last chapter. Enjoy and please don't hesitate to share your thoughts/ideas :)

-Plum

Mankowitz’s Military Surplus was a big, open-floor market occupying half an industrial warehouse. The other half was a shipping organization specializing in delivering pets to Callistoans from other parts of the solar system. Juliet could only imagine the expense involved in such an endeavor. When she walked through the open bay doors that led to the half of the warehouse she was interested in, she was greeted by an armed synth at a security station.

The synth made no attempt to hide its synthetic nature; its face was a smooth gray ovoid with bright white LED eyes and a speaker grill for a mouth. More than that, it wasn’t clothed, exposing smooth, rubbery gray skin, and the bottom half of its left arm was a machine gun, complete with a long belt of ammunition fed from an olive-green ammo can on the desk. When she approached the security station, the synth said, in a harsh, male voice, “No violence or theft will be tolerated on the premises. We have mounted security turrets with clear lines of sight to every corner of the warehouse. Do not remove tags from objects you wish to purchase. Your bill will be tabulated as you exit the warehouse.” That said, the synth turned to face the street, waiting for the next customer.

Juliet walked through the scanner, listened to it beep a few times, and then into the wide-open shopping space. The aisles between the ten-meter-high shelving units were labeled helpfully, and she saw that the higher shelves just contained more stock like that displayed on the lower ones. She let her eyes drift around, taking in the enormous inventory of goods. Then, curiosity getting the better of her, she turned back to the synth and asked, “What about the ‘buy’ part? I mean, where do people go to sell their stuff?”

“This is the Mankowitz’s Military Surplus sales warehouse. If you want to sell goods, you’ll have to visit the storefront downtown. Sending you the address.”

“I should have realized that, sorry.”

“It’s fine, Angel—not like I was planning to sell anything.” Juliet stared, again, into the massive aisles full of gear. She felt overwhelmed, not by her need to buy things or the giant sales space filled with uncountable pieces of equipment, but by everything that had happened in the last couple of days, starting with her overindulgence while out with Nick and especially with her use of the lattice. She saw an area near the exit where people could sit at red plastic tables and eat food from vending machines, and she walked over to one of the tables to sit down. Had she really just knocked the specs off a corpo-sec officer with her mind?

“Is everything all right, Juliet?”

“No, not really. Do you think that corpo-sec goon will try to find me?”

“I don’t. I think it’s too much of a leap for him to think you did anything with your mind to knock his specs off. If anything, he’ll think you have a speed augmentation unlike anything he’s ever seen and pray into his pillow tonight that he never meets you again.”

Juliet snorted a surprised laugh at Angel’s imagery. “Pray into his pillow? I like that one.”

“Just relax, Juliet. You have plenty to worry about as it is. Let me worry about Gallant. I’ll let you know if it seems like he’s looking for you.” Angel’s words, as usual, did the trick, and Juliet felt the tension in her neck begin to unwind. She rolled her shoulders, inhaled deeply through her nose, and let it out slowly, pushing her stress out with it. Nodding as if to affirm her actions, she stood up and perused the big hanging aisle labels nearby. She settled on one that said Combat Armor and walked that way.

Despite its size, or perhaps because of it, the warehouse didn’t seem crowded. Only a few people perused the shelves here and there, and there weren’t any employees that she could see. An automated forklift beeped and flashed a red light as it backed up from a nearby stack of boxes, adding to the feeling that the place was entirely automated. Juliet let her eyes drift to the ceiling and saw clusters of cameras all over the place. Just as the synth had warned, at every junction of aisles, a turret lurked among the metal rafters, though the barrels weren’t aimed at the floor by default.

She wandered the combat armor section, admiring the many types of protective equipment on sale. Most of the products were new in the package, but she found boxes of used gear, too. The used equipment was clearly sold to the company in bulk, probably from corpo-sec departments that had gone through an upgrade cycle. Most of the armor was black, but she also saw every kind of camouflage imaginable, from tundra to desert to jungle. Some of the new stuff caught her eye with its flashy colors, clearly not meant to hide the user but to display a personality. A shiny pink helmet got her thinking, and she asked, “What exactly would a pirate wear? Should I even be trying to look like a pirate? Isn’t that the whole deal with them, that they don’t fit a uniform?”

“I suppose that’s right. My knowledge is anecdotal from fiction I’ve read and watched, but give me a moment while . . . ahh, yes. I’ve just gone through public news sites with captioned photos. Most pirates pictured are wearing mismatched armor, though a few have high-end equipment that wouldn’t be out of place in a corpo-sec paramilitary unit if not for its well-used appearance. Seventy-four percent of the pirates in the photos and vids don’t have any sort of head protection.”

“There’s no way I’m going in without a helmet. I’d be dead if not for the helmet I was wearing on Titan.”

“I wasn’t suggesting that. I, too, would appreciate you wearing a helmet.”

“All right, all right, c’mon, let’s get serious.” Juliet looked back at the shelves, letting her gaze wander all the way down the aisle, zooming in on labels until she saw something intriguing. “Phobos Proxy War FlexPlate armor?” She started walking toward the display.

“The Phobos Proxy War occurred in 2079 and involved a dozen megacorporations, including OrionTech and MaraSol Energy. Phobos was being used as a staging location for the Tharsis Conflict by OrionTech and their allies, and MaraSol’s consortium hired mercenaries to assault their installations.”

“Huh,” Juliet replied, examining the chest and leg armor displayed on the metallic rack next to the boxes of “Used – Good Condition” equipment. It was bulkier than her ballistic vest, but not much; it consisted of some kind of composite-weave rigid plates joined together by a tough-looking, gray-black fiber mesh. She could see the plates on the thighs and abdomen were significantly thicker and, if she were guessing, housed some kind of battery.

“FlexPlate is the trademarked name of body armor made by MagnaCorp. It utilizes ‘nano-engineered armor plates that allow for maximum mobility while also providing battery-boosted joint support.’ They claim the armor ‘levels the playing field, allowing even non-augmented, small-frame soldiers to fight like a cybernetic juggernaut.’ Reviews online say to temper your expectations—the armor might allow you to deadlift twenty-five to fifty percent more than usual.”

“It’s cool, though, right?”

“Very cool!”

Juliet saw the boxes were labeled in small, medium, large, and then several flavors of extra-large. “What size do I get?”

“The corporate website indicates that someone with your measurements should get the medium torso and leg armor.”

“Okay, cool.” Juliet fished around, choosing a box a few rows deep, hoping she’d get lucky and pull a nicely scarred, used-looking set.” Taking the fairly heavy box in hand, she turned back toward the front of the warehouse, realizing she’d need a cart. A few minutes later, armor in the cart, she returned to the helmet section. She walked up and down the aisle, looking at all sorts of helmets and helmet accessories. Some came with visors, and some needed an aftermarket one. Some were made to be airtight and required a matching collar gasket on body armor, and some only covered the top third of the head.

She was holding a banana-yellow helmet with flame decals on the side when a man spoke up behind her in a cultured, almost stilted, English accent, “That might look nice with your eyes.”

Juliet whirled and, before she could choke the words back, snarled, “Piss off . . .” Her mind caught up to her mouth, and she slapped a hand over her lips, eyes wide with horror as she saw the man recoil, taking a step back and holding up his hands apologetically.

“Erm, sorry about that. Didn’t mean any offense . . .”

Juliet felt her cheeks blooming with embarrassment. “No! I’m sorry! I really don’t know what came over me.”

“That was quite a vehement reaction . . .” Angel added unhelpfully.

“No worries.” He smoothed his soft brown hair back nervously, and Juliet felt all the worse; he was a nice-looking guy, probably only twenty or so, and looked utterly mortified by the idea that he’d overstepped. He didn’t look like the sort of person you’d find in a warehouse full of weapons and body armor, but then, there were other things in the place, too—drones, electronics, even MREs.

“Anyway,” she held up the helmet, “this is a bit bright for me.” She set it back on the shelf and then turned back. “I feel almost paralyzed by all of the options.”

He folded his arms over his chest, and Juliet noticed how his shirt sleeves pulled taut around his triceps and rode up a little, exposing the tail-end of a colorful tattoo on his left arm—some kind of dragon or turtle or fish, something with scales. He had bright green, metallic-shiny irises, and they twinkled with LEDs as he turned to scan the shelves; Juliet thought they were chrome-shiny and started wondering if her irises could mimic that kind of look. He distracted her from her daydreams about pretty eyes by saying, “Well, are you looking for something stylish, or do you need a particular function?”

“Hmm? Oh, shit! Do you work here?”

“Hah! No, no. I’m a reseller. I come here for bargains, but I know a lot about this stuff. Maybe I can help?”

“Well, sure. Now I feel even worse for snapping at you. I’m Lucky.”

“Lucky?”

“My name, I mean.”

“Oh, doh!” He chuckled, shaking his head with a rueful grin. “I’m Artie. Tossing you a business card.”

“Received,” Angel said.

“Got it. Anyway, I’m looking for something kind of cool but tough, you know what I mean? I want it to have some blind spot cams and be rated to stop small arms bullets.”

“Full face shield?”

Juliet thought about it. Her current helmet’s visor left her mouth and chin exposed, and she was used to it, but wouldn’t it be nice to have a bit more protection? “I guess I’m open to that, yeah.”

“You looking for something new or used?”

“Don’t mind used. In fact, I’d rather my helmet didn’t look like I keep it sitting on a shelf instead of using it.”

“Right. Operator?”

“Yeah.”

He nodded and started walking down the line, stopping by a row of multicolored helmets with mirrored visors on the front. “These are mirrored, which looks cool, but they can switch to non-reflective black in an instant; the same for the colorful part. Your PAI can control it. Any of them jump out at you?”

Juliet scanned the row of helmets and paused on the fourth one—baby blue with a yellow smiley-face sticker on the left side and a black streak down the center of the crown that looked almost like a burn. “That smiley is calling my name. You think that damage on the top of the helmet is affecting the armor integrity?”

“What that? Not a chance. I’d guess whoever was wearing this helmet ducked a shotgun blast intended to take her in the face. That’s just some damage to the enamel; you could have that touched up if you . . .”

“Nah! I like it.” Juliet reached up to pull it off the shelf and plopped it into her cart. The warehouse merchandise tag taped to the back flopped and fluttered. “Thanks for the help, Artie.”

“Not a problem. Well, you have my card. I need to get shopping before my partner puts in a missing person report.”

“Right. Sorry. I mean for the ‘piss off’ comment earlier.”

“No problem. I’ve had my share of bad days.” He waved, meeting her gaze with his sparkling green eyes for a second, then turned and walked away.

“There’s something wrong with me, Angel. I don’t say ‘piss off.’ Why did I say it twice today to random strangers?”

“I wish I could explain it. I was hoping that if we didn’t make a big deal about your earlier encounter, it would blow over, but . . . I have to admit, I’m worried.”

“Yeah. Me too. Let’s just get through this shopping, then I’m going back to the hotel, and I’m gonna try to sleep for ten hours or so. Maybe that will help.”

“Sleep is the best way to rest the brain, certainly. Some solid REM time might help your brain to reset.”

“You think that’s it? I need to ‘reset’ my brain?”

“I have no idea!” Angel’s voice climbed an octave with stress, and Juliet gripped the cart handle tightly, closing her eyes and breathing deeply to try to calm herself and, hopefully, Angel.

“Okay, okay, Angel. Relax. I’m going to be all right. At least I caught myself that time, right? I didn’t blast the poor guy or something.”

“True.” Angel audibly sighed, something she rarely simulated for Juliet’s benefit, and said, “Let’s be positive. As you said, you caught yourself. Things might be improving on their own.” She paused a moment, then added, “Your new body armor has standard mounts for two micro drones on the backplate.”

“Now you’re talking. Let’s go see what we can find.” Juliet pushed her cart back to the front of the store and scanned the aisles until Angel highlighted the one she wanted. Ten minutes later, she was reading the back of a box containing a “micro stealth surveillance drone.”

“You should get that one and also another spider drone in case we’re in cramped quarters. Spider drones are better at lurking to watch a location, too.”

“Right,” Juliet put the box in the cart and then scanned the shelves until she found a spider drone much like the one she’d lost in the gunfight on the Kowashi. “What else?”

“A more appropriate primary weapon.”

“Right. SMG or rifle?”

“Or shotgun?” Angel countered.

“Well, if we’re in a pressurized environment, I probably don’t want a lot of penetration potential, right? Also, if I’m outnumbered, nothing clears a room like an auto shotgun. I know it’s true ‘cause White told me so!”

“White certainly knew his business . . .”

“Knows. He’s still alive.” Juliet knew she was being pedantic, but something made her want to confirm the fact aloud. She’d lost enough friends from that brief period in her life.

“Right. In any case, I concur, and I recommend a conventional firearm rather than an electro-shotgun.”

“Why?”

“A higher potential rate of fire. More noise, so more intimidation, and fewer failure points.”

Juliet nodded, remembering the charge-up time the electro-shotguns she’d used required. “Okay, lead me to the gun section.” She followed Angel’s directions through the aisles, pushing her cart past other shoppers, all the while struggling to shove her worries to the back of her mind. She kept seeing Artie’s startled face when she’d whirled and snarled at him. Worse, she kept remembering how it had almost felt like her mouth, her body had acted without her permission. With those worries on her mind, she sort of just went through the motions, following Angel’s advice, when it came to picking out a new shotgun.

It was a Bosch & Royal automatic “polyblast” shotgun. The shells were narrower than a 12-gauge and had smaller pellets, but they were made of high-density polymers designed to deform rapidly, outperforming larger, led pellets. Not only that, but the shells used a high-energy liquid crystal propellant that supposedly put gunpowder to shame. All that added up to more numerous and powerful shots; the box magazine held twenty-four of the pressurized metallic shells. Juliet had balked at first, wondering how hard it would be to purchase the specialized ammo, but Angel did some searching and found that they were widely available in most cities.

With her cart loaded with four boxes of shells, the gun, her drones, helmet, and armor, Juliet started wheeling her way to the warehouse’s footwear section. She found an extensive display of “lightly used” combat boots and selected a well-broken-in pair of scuffed, black ones with a reinforced, carbon-fiber toe box. That done, she made her way toward the exit, but not before stopping by a display of tactical vests. She picked out a blue and black camo-patterned one that she could wear over her armor and stuff full of bullets and shells.

“So, I just walk out of here, and the store will charge me? I don’t want to get blasted by a turret.”

“Walk to that exit area where the floor is painted green. Stand there a minute and wait for me to confirm the bill and pay.”

“Ah, gotcha.” Juliet pushed her cart to the big rectangle of painted concrete and paused, leaning on the handle, trying to think of anything other than her incongruous behavior that day. “I think I’ll have a long session with Doctor Ming when we get back to the hotel.”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea. Should I order you some food?”

“Yes! How about . . .”

“One moment—your total just came through 17,477 bits.”

“Shit! Seriously?”

“The shotgun and armor were both quite expensive . . .”

“Well, let’s try not to lose them, then.” Juliet sighed, moving her cart to a designated “merchandise boxing” area. “What’s my balance now, anyway?”

“204,310 Sol-bits.”

“Be nice to make some money for a change, don’t you think? I’m bleeding bits out here training with Nick.”

“It’ll pay off. Think of the money you’ll make flying that gunship!”

Juliet smiled, realizing she already felt much better about things; perhaps there was something to say for the innate cathartic therapy of shopping. “Thanks for being so positive, Angel. Now, let’s talk about food. I’m going to be hungry after Doctor Ming drags all my deepest secrets out of me.”