black case from the wall. It swung hard to her side, nearly pulling her arm off. The container pushed her musculature and balance beyond comfort with its unusual mass. She packed more power into her small frame than most would expect, but the case was heavy , and the gear’s bulk wasn’t helping.
She staggered to the exit and snatched up her own case, grateful for its minor counterbalancing effect. She snorted inside the facemask, imagining how she must look. A random person on Earth might mistake her for a tacky humanoid bellhop robot carrying a tourist’s luggage up to the honeymoon suite of a cheap Goth hotel.
As soon as she stepped into the base, her Cascavel linked in and started snooping around. It was two links in one, completely modular. She used the normal link most of the time, and it adhered to all the official protocols obeyed by most links made anywhere. The Cascavel’s alter ego, a tiny stealth link, wouldn’t be spotted in most scans as it nestled next to the civilian link in her skull like a remora on a shark, except in this case the remora was the predator.
The Cascavel came complete with a powerful hacking suite, loads of storage, and advanced optical capture abilities wired through her eyes. It could record even a glimpse of sensitive information from great distances. Aldriena stole a glimpse of the security laser mount above her, wondering if she would see a flash if it fired.
Quit being so melodramatic. It wouldn’t be an optical wavelength weapon. Besides, you know they’d want you alive. Pump you for information first, then …
Aldriena terminated her line of thought and regained full placidity. It wouldn’t do to trigger the HIT and make the ugly daydream into a self-fulfilling prophecy.
The Cascavel connected using a series of one-time codes her company, Black Core, had purchased from a Bentran traitor. Right now, the ex-Bentran man was probably soaking up the sun on some Brazilian beach, enjoying the payout he’d earned by helping out Black Core with insider information. Or he’d been whisked back home by Bentra for planting the fake info, and Aldriena was about to be captured and interrogated.
All in a not-so-honest day’s work.
The code seemed to function. There was still the problem that the man wasn’t on her courier. Black Core had registered him as a passenger, in case Thermopylae’s computer would crosscheck the use of the code with the presence of the employee. But the cameras would reveal that he hadn’t come on board.
An active AI core would catch the oversight in a second and have Aldriena stuck to the bulkhead with a glue grenade. But Thermopylae couldn’t have a superintelligence active for longer than hours at a time, it was simply too dangerous. There had been too many close calls. Even the arrogant corporate leaders had learned or died. Rampant AIs were like nuclear meltdowns: they happened, but each time one occurred they bolstered mankind’s resolve to get it right next time—or else.
A green line overlaid a debarking lane, leading her straight ahead. Aldriena ignored it and moved off to the far right lane. Inside the mask, she gave herself a small smile. One of life’s little pleasures.
She came to a station and threw her cases down on the countertop. It looked like wood but took a good hit. The wall robot didn’t move. It had to start up since she’d picked another lane than the one the station had booted for her.
“I’m heeeeeeere,” she said. The wall checker bot came to life. It had two long, thin arms with spherical joints and delicate three-fingered hands. A fist-sized sensor suite mounted on a tentacle slid out to get a look at the luggage.
She paced the room as the machine pored over her personal case, keeping everything aside in the large box. Then the screener opened the cargo case and viewed the shiny bars.
“These items. Identify,” it said.
“That’s the loot,” she said.
“Is this synonymous with the entry ‘platinum
She staggered to the exit and snatched up her own case, grateful for its minor counterbalancing effect. She snorted inside the facemask, imagining how she must look. A random person on Earth might mistake her for a tacky humanoid bellhop robot carrying a tourist’s luggage up to the honeymoon suite of a cheap Goth hotel.
As soon as she stepped into the base, her Cascavel linked in and started snooping around. It was two links in one, completely modular. She used the normal link most of the time, and it adhered to all the official protocols obeyed by most links made anywhere. The Cascavel’s alter ego, a tiny stealth link, wouldn’t be spotted in most scans as it nestled next to the civilian link in her skull like a remora on a shark, except in this case the remora was the predator.
The Cascavel came complete with a powerful hacking suite, loads of storage, and advanced optical capture abilities wired through her eyes. It could record even a glimpse of sensitive information from great distances. Aldriena stole a glimpse of the security laser mount above her, wondering if she would see a flash if it fired.
Quit being so melodramatic. It wouldn’t be an optical wavelength weapon. Besides, you know they’d want you alive. Pump you for information first, then …
Aldriena terminated her line of thought and regained full placidity. It wouldn’t do to trigger the HIT and make the ugly daydream into a self-fulfilling prophecy.
The Cascavel connected using a series of one-time codes her company, Black Core, had purchased from a Bentran traitor. Right now, the ex-Bentran man was probably soaking up the sun on some Brazilian beach, enjoying the payout he’d earned by helping out Black Core with insider information. Or he’d been whisked back home by Bentra for planting the fake info, and Aldriena was about to be captured and interrogated.
All in a not-so-honest day’s work.
The code seemed to function. There was still the problem that the man wasn’t on her courier. Black Core had registered him as a passenger, in case Thermopylae’s computer would crosscheck the use of the code with the presence of the employee. But the cameras would reveal that he hadn’t come on board.
An active AI core would catch the oversight in a second and have Aldriena stuck to the bulkhead with a glue grenade. But Thermopylae couldn’t have a superintelligence active for longer than hours at a time, it was simply too dangerous. There had been too many close calls. Even the arrogant corporate leaders had learned or died. Rampant AIs were like nuclear meltdowns: they happened, but each time one occurred they bolstered mankind’s resolve to get it right next time—or else.
A green line overlaid a debarking lane, leading her straight ahead. Aldriena ignored it and moved off to the far right lane. Inside the mask, she gave herself a small smile. One of life’s little pleasures.
She came to a station and threw her cases down on the countertop. It looked like wood but took a good hit. The wall robot didn’t move. It had to start up since she’d picked another lane than the one the station had booted for her.
“I’m heeeeeeere,” she said. The wall checker bot came to life. It had two long, thin arms with spherical joints and delicate three-fingered hands. A fist-sized sensor suite mounted on a tentacle slid out to get a look at the luggage.
She paced the room as the machine pored over her personal case, keeping everything aside in the large box. Then the screener opened the cargo case and viewed the shiny bars.
“These items. Identify,” it said.
“That’s the loot,” she said.
“Is this synonymous with the entry ‘platinum
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