Cyber Dreams 4.10 - Io Approach

Here's today's chapter! Your feedback is much appreciated :)

-Plum

Juliet’s new set of rooms turned out to be a slight upgrade to her old suite. They were closer to the central elevator leading to the dining and recreation levels and had a larger en-suite bathroom. More than the room upgrade, in exchange for signing an NDA, the cruise director gave Juliet a voucher for a free trip to any of the cruise line’s destinations in the Sol System, something that would save her nearly thirty thousand bits on her return trip, assuming she booked the same kind of passage back to Luna.

She briefly contemplated refusing the payoff, wondering if she might make more bits by selling her story to some sensationalist news outfit. The idea didn’t appeal to her, though; she had enough on her plate and wanted to put her episode with Eve and Kirby behind her. She already had to worry that somehow her involvement with the duo’s arrest would get back to Zapho, whomever he was. That in her mind, she’d quickly agreed to cruise corp’s deal and taken her upgraded room, a few free meal passes, and, of course, the all-expenses paid trip voucher.

For the remainder of her trip, Juliet spent a lot of time hanging around the various restaurants on the cruise liner, trying to focus her mind to hear a specific person’s thoughts, tuning out the din of other voices, and generally testing her new implant’s ability to keep the psionic lattice cool. She improved, though it was so gradual and slight that she didn’t notice it at first. It took Angel reminding her about how she’d been nearly unable to function with the cacophonous voices clamoring for her attention back when she was at Grave for her to accept the very real fact that she now had a tool that was at least moderately useful to her in crowded situations. She still had to strain to focus on an individual, and if she did it for long, she began to get a headache, but it was possible.

In less crowded situations, she’d gotten better at turning the ability on and off, listening to a person’s surface thoughts without closing her eyes, and digging deeper for images—what Juliet had come to realize were memories and imaginings, or, as she liked to call them, daydreams. The only problem with seeing the images was that Juliet struggled to tell the difference between memory and fantasy, which, obviously, could make a big difference. Sometimes she’d see disturbing flashes, like a woman stabbing the man she was eating dinner with, only to focus on reality and see her laughing and touching his wrist—was the woman hiding murderous thoughts? Was she imagining a suppressed fear? Was she even aware of the thought? Was it a subconscious urge? Juliet had no way of knowing.

Those problems aside, she found that with heavy use of the lattice, she almost always built up a charge of the weird psionic energy that she’d used to knock over her pint glass on the first day of the cruise. During the second half of the trip, she’d tried experimenting with it in various ways. The first thing she did was not use it. She allowed it to build up until it felt so uncomfortable that she thought she might suffer some physical harm from its presence. Angel, closely monitoring her brain with her nanites, didn’t think she was in any danger, but Juliet had insisted on going back to her room and “letting it out.”

With the charge so strong, probably three or four times what she’d felt that first time, Juliet had tried to do something a little more significant than knocking over a glass. She’d set her vibroblade on the coffee table and, while sitting on the couch, tried to pull it to her. It took her several tries to exert that strange phantom limb that seemed to be attached, at least mentally, to her breathing, but with a slow, steady inhale, she’d gotten the knife to wriggle over the tabletop toward her. Staring at the sheathed blade, she’d wondered about getting it over the gap between the table and the couch and decided to quickly suck in her breath while willing it to come to her hand. Juliet was very glad the knife was sheathed because it had flipped through the air and smacked her in the forehead.

That was on day three of the trip, and she steadily improved each day with more and more practice. Though she never got over the crutch of tying her “telekinesis,” as Angel labeled the ability, to her breathing, she did learn to control her efforts better. On the last day of the cruise, she managed to yank her knife from the kitchenette counter, four meters across the room to where she stood in the doorway to her bedroom, snatching it out of the air with her brilliantly quick cybernetic arm.

Juliet flipped the knife in the air, catching the handle. “That’s quite a trick, isn’t it?”

“I could see such a talent proving extremely useful in your line of work. Imagine if you were in the sheriff’s office, locked in the holding cell, and he walked out to get lunch with the town doctor . . .”

“Angel, I’m not living in a Western!”

“Even so.”

Juliet chuckled. “Well, I also had to ‘charge up’ for nearly an hour at the breakfast buffet this morning to pull that off.” She spoke nonchalantly, but if Juliet really thought about the fact that she could move things with her mind, she started to feel like she was in some kind of surreal simulation. Sometimes she wondered about that—what if she’d taken Mark up on one of his invitations to try out his dream-rig one night after work at the scrap yard, and she’d gotten stuck? What if Angel and this whole “operator” life were just parts of a wild fantasy she couldn’t wake up from? Of course, she didn’t really believe it, but it almost felt as plausible as the lattice and the things she’d done in the last year.

“Yes, but you’re getting better, and, though it’s difficult to measure precisely, it seems you’re starting to develop a charge more easily, or . . . at least, more quickly.”

At Angel’s words, Juliet brushed her weird existential contemplations aside. “Yeah, you said as much, but it doesn’t feel like I’ve done anything as impressive as what Joshua Kyle did to Polk and me.” She tucked the knife into her belt and then turned back to her room; she needed to pack up her bag.

“At the risk of sounding cliché, you can’t compare apples to oranges. The amount of psionic energy you used to move that knife might be devastating if applied to a human brain.”

“I guess. I’m not about to start experimenting on random people, though.” Juliet’s pack had plenty of room in it, even after adding her few acquisitions while on the cruise—the nice outfit in which she’d almost been killed, her swimsuit, and a luxurious white robe she was stealing from her room. Considering her troubles with Kirby and Eve, she didn’t think the cruise company would complain about it. “How long until we dock at Io Station?”

A countdown timer appeared on Juliet’s AUI as Angel replied, “Ninety-seven minutes.”

“All right.” Juliet hoisted her pack and carried it into the sitting room, where she flopped down onto the comfortable sofa facing her suite’s door. “Play me Aya’s message again, will you?” A vid screen opened in her vision, obscuring her view of the room—Angel had maximized the resolution. A vid began to play, showing Aya facing the camera with a wide grin, and over her shoulder, Shiro and Alice sitting at the mess hall table aboard the Kowashi. She was using one of her drones to film her little message.

“Hey, Lucky! Sorry, it took me a couple of days to respond to your message! I know it seems like Bennet never does anything, but I’ve actually been pretty busy doing his job on top of mine. I tried to get Shiro to help, but you know Shiro, he’s always doing . . . Shiro things. Of course, I can’t bug Alice . . .” Behind her, Shiro looked up from a data pad he was perusing, and grunted, then looked back down. Alice, back to the camera, lifted a hand and waved briefly. “She’s busy keeping us from running into asteroids or something.” Aya’s voice grew hushed, and she held a hand to the side of her mouth and winked, “Even though the autopilot pretty much does everything for, like, ninety-nine percent of the trip.”

“I heard that, you little shit. How about I lock myself in my quarters, and we see how well this old bird manages to dock at New Galveston?” Alice’s accent, combined with the cursing, always brought a smile to Juliet’s lips.

“Just kidding, Alice! Sheesh!” Aya winked into the camera again, then she left the mess and made her way down the hallway toward the port bunks where Juliet’s room had been. “I’ve got something to show you. Before we left, I got a package I’d been expecting for, like, weeks.” She paused in front of Juliet’s room. “Don’t get weirded out that I’m going into your room—I put it in here for safekeeping. I mean, it’s for you, anyway.” She placed her hand on the lock, and the door swished open. Juliet wasn’t surprised—most of the crew could open most of the doors on the Kowashi.

“It would’ve cost me a lot to ship these up to Luna, but I talked my friend down at Romero’s Salvage to tuck these into a shipping container with a few parts for the gunship. They hardly weigh anything in comparison.” She walked over to the acceleration couch where an old, grease-stained corrugated cardboard box sat. “Uh, don’t worry; I’ll clean that acceleration couch if you need to use it again.” Aya pulled open the box and panned the camera down to view the contents. “Books!” She wasn’t lying—at least fifty paperback books with colorful, fanciful artwork on the faded, frayed covers filled the box.

“I bought ‘em cheap off a peer-to-peer auction site. Some guy in Boston had these sitting in his garage, I guess.” Her face was serene, a gentle smile touching her lips as she took a minute to hold several of the books up, displaying the artwork, from scantily clad women holding absurdly large swords, to cowboys with silver stars on their chests, to dragons breathing fire, to rockets landing on Venus. “Lots of cool, old-school fiction in here. I’m gonna read ‘em while I wait for you to get back, and then I’ll pass ‘em your way.”

She closed the box, and the camera panned away from the box to face her, and, as usual, Juliet found her smile infectious. “Won’t it be fun to talk about all these adventures? I’m sure the others will be so jealous they’ll want to read them too!” She started toward the door, leaving Juliet’s quarters behind. “Anyway, Lucky, I hope you have a good time showing those know-it-alls around Jupiter how good you are. Send me another message soon!”

The vid window snapped shut, and Juliet sighed happily. She’d watched the message at least ten times since she’d received it the day after her little tussle with Eve and Kirby. “Any word from Grant?”

“Nothing since the last message.”

“Did you figure out where the Badhammer is?”

“Yes. The Badhammer is a self-styled ‘Jupiter punk pub’ on Io Station. It’s on spindle three, ring seven.”

“Spindle three . . . how big is Io Station?”

“Io Station has a central spindle that is five kilometers long and nine branching spindles that are nearly a kilometer long each. Around each branching spindle are seven habitation rings. Overall, there are nearly a hundred square kilometers of inhabited superstructures on Io Station. The central spindle boasts a gravity generator and is dominated by a verdant public park plaza at the center of the station’s shopping district. Diamatex panels line the ‘ceiling’ of many spindle and ring areas, providing views of the Jovian System.”

“Are you reading a brochure?”

“Paraphrasing.”

“Huh. Well, sounds like a lousy place for a first meeting. What’s he trying to prove?”

“I don’t know. The images on their net page are reminiscent of that club you visited in Tucson—Thicker than Water. Though it’s dirtier, more crowded, has more flashing lights . . .”

“All right, all right.” Juliet groaned and stood up, hoisting her pack and slinging it over her shoulder. “Let’s make our way to the docking collars; I don’t want to wait behind a few thousand tourists to get off this thing.” When Juliet walked down the corridor to the central elevator bank, she was surprised to find the concierge staffer, Val, waiting for her.

“All packed up?” As usual, she was cheery, bright-eyed, and wearing an impeccably fitted and pressed uniform. She still seemed very young to Juliet, but she knew, objectively, the girl—woman—had to be at least an adult for a job like that.

Juliet gave her pack a little bounce on her shoulders. “Not too hard.”

“Would you mind if I walk with you? My boss wants me to do a sort of exit survey—make sure you’re still happy with the arrangement you made with the cruise line and that you’re leaving ‘content and with no ill intent.’ Hah! Those were his actual words, silly old guy that he is.”

“No ill intent, huh? Yeah, he sounds kind of like a dweeb.” Juliet huffed slightly and shook her head. “You don’t have to waste your time, Val. I’m not planning to cause the cruise corp any trouble.”

“I’ll walk with you anyway if you don’t mind. We can see a good view of the system through the big viewscreen by the airlocks.”

Juliet shrugged and stepped into an open elevator. “Been out here before?”

“A few times.”

“Hey,” Juliet leaned against the wall as the doors closed and the elevator began to descend, “not to be rude, but do you mind if I ask how old you are? You seem really young to have been traveling so much.”

“Oh, I don’t mind! My dad’s a captain for the line. Not this ship—the Caliope Dream. He got me hired on when I was sixteen, and I’ve been at it for three years. If you think that’s interesting, well, if you ask me, you’ve got a lot more interesting job!”

Please, oh please, tell me about yourself!

The young woman’s thoughts were so focused as Juliet looked into her eyes that they came to her unbidden. She sighed and said, “There’s all kinds of ‘interesting’ in the universe, Val, and I think you’re doing things pretty damn well. My job can be exciting, but it can be scary and maddening and sad, too. I bet if you stick with the line, you’ll be an officer in no time, yeah?”

“Probably. But . . .” she glanced up at the camera in the elevator, then shrugged. “Oh, melt it; I don’t care if Herbert sees this. I just hate how the corporation owns everything about me. My room, my clothes, my schedule. They’re always watching on the ship,” she jerked her thumb toward the camera, “and I basically live here, you know? I can leave for a few hours when we make port, but . . . it’s almost like a prison, Lucky.”

“Sheesh!” Juliet was taken aback, but her response was cut short as the elevator halted and the door opened. “Walk with me.” Val nodded, and as they continued on their way toward the docking collars, Juliet said, “If you feel like a prisoner, I guess it’s a different story. The SOA can be a good gig, and if you’re smart, you don’t have to take jobs that’ll be . . . traumatic, for lack of a better word. Think about what you want to do, develop a skillset, invest in a good,” Juliet lowered her voice and mouthed, “jailbroken,” then more loudly, “PAI, then apply for a license. It’s as easy as that. You can start taking jobs off the net almost immediately.”

“Yeah, I’ve watched vids and read walkthroughs. It’s just . . . I hear there are a lot more broke operatives than successful ones. I also hear that with success comes risk and . . .” She trailed off, rolling her hand as if to indicate the myriad problems with being an SOA operator.

“Hey, that’s all true, but Val, you’re not average, are you?”

“No . . .”

“So, if you think you want to get out from under the thumb,” Juliet jerked her arm around, indicating the ship, “of a corporation, you’ve gotta take a leap. Have some faith in yourself and take advantage of your current situation. Use your money and stability to get yourself set up. Once you have an SOA ID, you can start building accounts and contact information, keeping it separate from your current ID and employer. Like I said, though, Val, I’d try to think of an angle that doesn’t involve direct conflict. You’re pretty, and I can tell you’re sharp. Look at your uniform! I bet you could do some corporate recon or face work. You know, dress all fancy, get the info for the other guys, the ones who will do the heavy lifting, the dirty work, while you collect your bits for using this.” Juliet tapped her temple, indicating her brain.

“Is that what you do?”

“I . . . I should, and I try, but I tend to get myself mixed up in a lot of drama. Don’t be like me, Val.” Juliet laughed, shaking her head.

“I looked up your SOA card. It seems like you haven’t been at it for long, but according to stats on the net, you’ve done way more than most people in their first year.”

“Like I said,” Juliet laughed, “don’t be like me.”

A chime sounded, and the ship’s pleasant gender-neutral AI announced, “We’re on our final approach to Io Station. We anticipate docking in just a little more than an hour and would like to point out that the view of Jupiter and the rest of the Jovian System is a sight to behold. If you would make your way to the Redmond Deck, we have a large, open viewport and comfortable viewing space for several hundred passengers. Alternatively, if you’d like to prepare for disembarking, you can watch the approach on the Docking Deck. Finally, if you’d like to make the most of your cruise and stay in your rooms or visit one of the restaurants, we’ll provide live footage of the approach on the various vid screens around the ship. Thank you so much for traveling on the Sunset Star Runner, and we hope you’ll choose us for your next Sol System adventure.

“Can I talk to you some more while we approach?”

“Yeah.” Juliet smiled down at the plucky young woman. “Come hang out with me while I watch the approach. I’ll share some of the mistakes I’ve made, and there are plenty.”

“I bet you’ve done more than make mistakes, though . . .” Val hurried to keep up as Juliet’s long strides devoured the corridor.

“Sure, Val. I’ve done a few things right and had a lot of lucky breaks, too. You know, a big part of success in this business is the kind of people you surround yourself with. You want to find some folks that you can trust . . .” Juliet found she rather enjoyed talking to Val, sort of imagining herself as the girl’s temporary mentor, and her mood decidedly began to lift as she recounted some of her exploits and took an objective look at her accomplishments. She’d done a lot, and not a small amount of the things she’d managed to pull off were pretty damn impressive. In fact, she found talking to Val was just about exactly what she needed to get her head right, boost her confidence, and put things in perspective—she was an operator, damn it, and she wasn’t going to let Nick Grant intimidate her by choosing some edgy punk bar for their first meeting.