Read Online The softwire : Virus on Orbis 1 by PJ Haarsma - Free Book Online
Authors: PJ Haarsma
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had destroyed life. I made a point of remembering that. I also made a point to remember to be very careful in my new surroundings.
No one spoke for the entire ride on the spaceway, or the tram ride through a construction zone buzzing with flying robots, or the short walk to the huge structure that I assumed was our new home.
“This is Weegin’s World!” exclaimed our Guarantor, still caressing the infant larva in his hand. “Everyone, stay close to me.”
We followed Weegin into the mouth of a windowless metallic building and down a hallway. Weegin stopped in front of two large glass doors.
“Cover your ears. It can get loud,” Weegin said. “And don’t touch anything. I don’t want to lose any of you on the first day.”
“Better watch it, freak,” Switzer said, bumping into my shoulder, but I didn’t even bother to reply. On Orbis, Switzer was quickly becoming the least of my worries.
I grabbed Ketheria’s hand as we entered the guts of Weegin’s World, a cavernous dome-within-a-dome filled with machines, grease, and dirt. In contrast to the luxury we had witnessed earlier, our new home was ugly. It seemed that our Guarantor spent his fortunes on machinery, not comforts. Under the metallic dome, enormous robotic cranes tossed around cargo containers as if they were toy blocks. Tentacles from the massive cranes gripped the inner dome for support while these metal monsters plucked cargo through the giant energy field that pierced the skin of the outer dome. The enormous claws deposited the containers for smaller robots to crack open and sort their contents, which were more containers. The whole process looked to me like some absurd ballet.
Max would love to see this,
I thought.
Weegin piled us into a lift that took us high over the factory. The air was stale and smelled of grease, just like the manufacturing corridor on our seed-ship. Weegin ignited a bright green energy field that served as a walkway over the entire workings of Weegin’s World.
“I’m a jobber,” Weegin said. “Look over here.” We leaned against the railing to see where he was pointing. “Every time a starship is forfeited, I put in a bid for its cargo with the Trading Council. Anytime a vendor goes out of business — even in other star systems — I buy their stock. I grab whatever I can find.”
“You collect junk,” Switzer said.
Weegin grabbed Switzer by the nose and twisted it. Switzer cried out in pain. Weegin, who was quite strong for his size, dragged Switzer to the front of the group.
“Is this junk?” Weegin asked, referring to us. “I don’t think you would call your friends junk.”
“Maybe,” he said.
Weegin twisted harder.
“Yer gonna rip my nose off!” Switzer cried.
Weegin pushed him to the floor. Switzer massaged his nose, which was already swelling up.
“Jobbing is how I acquired you. Just prior to your arrival, when the Keepers announced the death of your crew, a few companies forfeited their claims. That’s when I put in a bid, and now I have you.” Weegin looked straight into my eyes.
“What are we supposed to do?” asked a girl named Grace.
Weegin moved down the overhead railing to another glass door.
“Depends on you and how smart you are,” he replied.
Weegin picked up a scrap of metal and threw it onto the floor. Instantly, small robotic scavengers scurried across the factory floor and devoured the scrap.
“Just don’t get in the way of those critters.” He chuckled. “Some of you,” Weegin continued, “will process inventory data, while most of you will sort the smaller bins the robots are too clumsy to handle. A lot of small stuff has big payout.”
Weegin piled us into another lift, which went even higher. He focused his beady eyes on me and added, “I’m interested to see what you can do. You better be worth it.”
The elevator opened into a small round room. There was nothing in the room except for some vestlike garments hanging on the walls — some small,
No one spoke for the entire ride on the spaceway, or the tram ride through a construction zone buzzing with flying robots, or the short walk to the huge structure that I assumed was our new home.
“This is Weegin’s World!” exclaimed our Guarantor, still caressing the infant larva in his hand. “Everyone, stay close to me.”
We followed Weegin into the mouth of a windowless metallic building and down a hallway. Weegin stopped in front of two large glass doors.
“Cover your ears. It can get loud,” Weegin said. “And don’t touch anything. I don’t want to lose any of you on the first day.”
“Better watch it, freak,” Switzer said, bumping into my shoulder, but I didn’t even bother to reply. On Orbis, Switzer was quickly becoming the least of my worries.
I grabbed Ketheria’s hand as we entered the guts of Weegin’s World, a cavernous dome-within-a-dome filled with machines, grease, and dirt. In contrast to the luxury we had witnessed earlier, our new home was ugly. It seemed that our Guarantor spent his fortunes on machinery, not comforts. Under the metallic dome, enormous robotic cranes tossed around cargo containers as if they were toy blocks. Tentacles from the massive cranes gripped the inner dome for support while these metal monsters plucked cargo through the giant energy field that pierced the skin of the outer dome. The enormous claws deposited the containers for smaller robots to crack open and sort their contents, which were more containers. The whole process looked to me like some absurd ballet.
Max would love to see this,
I thought.
Weegin piled us into a lift that took us high over the factory. The air was stale and smelled of grease, just like the manufacturing corridor on our seed-ship. Weegin ignited a bright green energy field that served as a walkway over the entire workings of Weegin’s World.
“I’m a jobber,” Weegin said. “Look over here.” We leaned against the railing to see where he was pointing. “Every time a starship is forfeited, I put in a bid for its cargo with the Trading Council. Anytime a vendor goes out of business — even in other star systems — I buy their stock. I grab whatever I can find.”
“You collect junk,” Switzer said.
Weegin grabbed Switzer by the nose and twisted it. Switzer cried out in pain. Weegin, who was quite strong for his size, dragged Switzer to the front of the group.
“Is this junk?” Weegin asked, referring to us. “I don’t think you would call your friends junk.”
“Maybe,” he said.
Weegin twisted harder.
“Yer gonna rip my nose off!” Switzer cried.
Weegin pushed him to the floor. Switzer massaged his nose, which was already swelling up.
“Jobbing is how I acquired you. Just prior to your arrival, when the Keepers announced the death of your crew, a few companies forfeited their claims. That’s when I put in a bid, and now I have you.” Weegin looked straight into my eyes.
“What are we supposed to do?” asked a girl named Grace.
Weegin moved down the overhead railing to another glass door.
“Depends on you and how smart you are,” he replied.
Weegin picked up a scrap of metal and threw it onto the floor. Instantly, small robotic scavengers scurried across the factory floor and devoured the scrap.
“Just don’t get in the way of those critters.” He chuckled. “Some of you,” Weegin continued, “will process inventory data, while most of you will sort the smaller bins the robots are too clumsy to handle. A lot of small stuff has big payout.”
Weegin piled us into another lift, which went even higher. He focused his beady eyes on me and added, “I’m interested to see what you can do. You better be worth it.”
The elevator opened into a small round room. There was nothing in the room except for some vestlike garments hanging on the walls — some small,
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