Bodyguard

18

“By protecting the proprietary nature of Project Freedom, and regulating access to it, Protech will earn excellent returns for its share owners while changing the course of human history.”

From Draft 16.2 of an unpublished Protech press release

The kid saved my life, there’s no doubt about that, even if her motivations were a bit clouded. The moment they were confronted by Sasha and two members of the Solar Queen’s security force, Trask and Bey pretended they were drunk and requested directions for the bar. No one believed them, least of all me, but it offered the security people a way to avoid conflict with the greenies, assuming they knew who the players were, and I was betting that they did. The security types made a big production out of escorting us to our respective staterooms and admonishing us to stay sober.

Yeah, like it or not, Sasha and her stubborn ways had saved me from a one-way trip through the lock. And that being the case, I knew it was simply a matter of time before the greenies or someone else tried it again. So, given the fact that the security people remained carefully neutral, I reversed my earlier decision and moved in with Sasha. It was a tight fit but a good deal safer than living alone.

Though afraid to launch a frontal assault, Linda tried to tease me out of the cabin with seductive voice-mail messages, Trask made futile attempts to bug our quarters, and the Regis folks monitored everything we did.

We, on the other hand, sent Joy on reconnaissance missions through the air ducts, watched entertainment videos, and ate elaborate meals obtained from room service. And, since it was difficult to eat without talking to each other, I allowed myself to be friendly.

Sasha seemed to welcome that, and, with the big secret out of the bag, let her guard down. She wore her eyepatch, a Regis Line T-shirt, and a pair of shorts. The food sat on the bed between us. She told me about her childhood, and it sounded depressing as hell.

“…So, even though I received training in the martial arts, I didn’t know why until Marsha called me into her office, and told me about the mission.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You call her Marsha?”

Sasha smiled. “Everyone else calls her Dr. Casad.”

I shook my head in amazement. “Go on.”

“Well, she told me how a man had been captured during the war and used as a storage module for valuable research. Research it would take years to duplicate, and she needed to complete an important project. The mission was to find and bring the man back, but to do so in a manner that left him unaware of his significance, and fooled the competition.” She smiled wryly. “I’m zero for three.”

I ignored the joke. “So, what did you say?”

Sasha allowed her eye to drift down towards the bed and brought it up again. “I didn’t say what I should have said. I didn’t say that it was wrong, I didn’t say that I was horrified, I didn’t say no. I said ‘yes, ma’am,’ and did as I was told.”

There was a moment of silence. Tears trickled down Sasha’s cheeks. Something broke inside me, and tears trickled down my cheeks too. I wiped them away. “So what will you do? When we reach Europa Station?”

Her eye wandered away. “I honestly don’t know. What Marsha did was wrong, but she’s my mother, and this project means a lot to her.”

I nodded. It was an honest answer, and a step in the right direction.

Thanks to Joy, and the time she spent camped in the air ducts over Linda Gibson’s stateroom, we knew about the plan to abduct me well before the ship docked at Europa Station.

Europa, the smallest of Jupiter’s four largest moons, was little more than an ice ball, its light-colored surface crosshatched with reddish fracture lines where water had erupted from the ocean below and frozen in place. Not especially hospitable until compared with Jupiter herself, playground for anticyclones large enough to swallow planets, and an atmosphere composed of ninety-five per cent hydrogen and helium.

It was no wonder, then, that Protech had established its base on a satellite rather than on the planet itself, and selected the one that not only had an abundance of water, but, thanks to Jupiter’s tidal action, a partially molten mantle that provided the scientists with a ready-made source of geothermal energy.

Since the station had been founded, financial necessity had forced Protech to lease some of the ever-growing habitat to other corporations, but they were still in charge, and kept the rest of the corpies on a short leash.

Which made it all the more amazing that the greenies had hatched a plan to grab me right out from under Protech’s nose. A plan that involved snatching me as the passengers disembarked, and either killing or holding me prisoner, they couldn’t decide which. Bey, bless his ecological heart, was for letting me live, while Linda favored the death penalty and Trask vacillated back and forth.

I opposed both plans, needless to say, and Sasha’s too, since it amounted to giving myself over to her mother. So, unbeknownst to my teenaged companion, I had a plan of my own, flawed as always, but better than nothing.

Everyone watched the approach on the ship’s entertainment system, and we were no exception. The bed doubled as an acceleration couch, and we strapped ourselves in place.

The moon was little more than a cue ball at first but quickly grew larger. It didn’t take long for the ship to fire powerful repulsors and come to terms with the satellite’s rather anemic gravity.

Viewed from space, Europa Station was an intricate maze of solar arrays, antenna farms, observatories, storage tanks, catwalks, and other installations too arcane to identify with a single glance. But the single most noticeable feature was the fact that the entire complex rested on platforms like those that dot the California coast. Only larger.

I was struck by the look of anticipation on Sasha’s face. What seemed strange and alien to me was the place where she’d been born, spent her childhood, and been trained…as what? An extension of her mother’s will?

One of the ship’s officers provided a rather nasal explanation of what we were seeing. Sasha replaced his narration with one of her own. There was genuine enthusiasm in her voice as she told me about the columns that held Europa Station aloft, how they extended down through ice and semiliquid slush to the top of a seamount hundreds of feet below, and functioned as gigantic shock absorbers in case of a moonquake or other geological disturbance.

I found myself watching her face rather than the screen, entranced by the energy I saw there, and impressed by the amount of scientific knowledge she had accumulated. Knowledge natural to someone of her background, yet hidden until now. From me? Or from a mother so strong, so domineering, that any sign of talent similar to her own was interpreted as a threat? My head started to hurt, and I let it go.

The ship swung out and away from the station, melted ice with the heat from its repellors, and vectored through a cloud of its own making. A sign appeared and disappeared as vapor drifted past the external vid cams. “WELCOME TO EUROPA STATION-HOME TO THE PROTECH CORPORATION.”

I felt a hand grab my stomach and squeeze. Here it was, the place where I would learn what they had stored in my head or die trying. I was scared, but eager too, wanting the whole thing to end.

The ship lost altitude, hovered for a moment, and dropped towards frost-covered metal. Other ships shared the deck, including freighters, couriers, and some strangely configured research vessels, but the Queen dwarfed them all, and cast her shadow across most of the landing platform and a substantial amount of sulphur-stained ice. Our landing jacks touched steel, and the hull creaked as it accepted the unaccustomed weight. We had arrived. A tone sounded, and the captain came on the PA system.

“On behalf of Regis Lines, and the Protech Corporation, it’s my pleasure to welcome you to Europa Station. I would like to thank those departing our vessel, and wish them a productive visit or happy homecoming, whichever the case may be. As for the rest of our passengers, this is but the halfway point in what I hope is the best vacation you’ve ever had. The ground crew is hard at work connecting pressurized tubeways to our locks, and the moment they’re done, you’ll be free to leave the ship. Please consult a host or hostess for more information regarding…”

I ordered the screen to black, touched my harness release, and swung my feet over the side of the bed. Sasha hit her release a second time. “Hey, Max, this thing’s jammed.”

I stepped over to the storage locker, ordered it open, and grabbed the bag I had packed six hours earlier. “Really? That’s too bad. I’ll tell maintenance to take a look.”

Sasha swore, tried to free herself, and gave up. Her first reaction was anger. “You did this!”

I looked in the mirror, polished my skull plate with a hand towel, and straightened my collar. “No, I asked Joy to do it.”

Always happy to hear the sound of her name, Joy climbed my pants leg and claimed her place on my shoulder. She was cheerful as always. “Sorry Sasha, but he’s the boss. I had to obey.”

Sasha strained against the harness, hit the release five or six times, and fell back against the pillow. Her expression changed to one of concern. “What will you do?”

“Find your mother, ask her what she stored in my head, and decide what to do with it.”

The kid shook her head in amazement. “You’re nuts. Absolutely nuts. You know that?”

I nodded agreeably. “So I’ve been told, although most people are less charitable and say I’m stupid.”

She gave me one of those looks, the kind that turn me gooey inside, and said, “Take care of yourself.”

I said I would and let myself out. There was lots of traffic, most of which was headed towards the C Deck lock. It was tempting to join the flow and let it carry me along, but I wasn’t that stupid. Assuming the greenies still planned to grab me, and I had no reason to doubt it, the lock was the logical place to do it. No, the crew’s lock, which was located one level down on D Deck, would be a safer bet.

I fought the current like a long-extinct salmon fighting its way upstream and made my way to one of the more utilitarian lift tubes frequented by the crew. And, given the fact that beyond the occasional tryst, passengers had no reason to visit crew quarters, there was nothing to prevent me from doing so. I wound up on a platform with a couple of stewards. They pretended I wasn’t there. No small task where I’m concerned.

The doors opened as the platform stopped on D Deck. The stewards got off and I followed. Europa’s gravity was a good deal lighter than the Earth-normal conditions maintained while the ship was in space. I moved carefully and used the slide step I’d learned on Mars.

The wood paneling had disappeared. Steel bulkheads, liberally sprinkled with safety slogans, morale boosters, and other corporate propaganda passed to either side. I noticed that androids and crew people alike had the ability to look right through me. I found the lock, joined a load of palletized cargo, and cycled through.

The corpies grabbed me as I stepped off the ship. There were four of them, all heavily armed and clearly expecting me. I considered giving them a tussle but it seemed pointless. They located my weapon within a matter of seconds. Joy bailed out of my pocket and was halfway to the deck when a man grabbed her. She struggled, but it was useless. Their leader, a skinny woman with a pink crewcut, glanced at her hand term and nodded. “Yup, he’s the one. And right on time too. Put the zappers on him and get a move on. The doc’s extra pissy today.”

Even I could figure out who “the doc” was. I should have been afraid but was ashamed instead. The fact that they had taken me so easily was worse than whatever lay ahead. It struck at the little bit of pride I had left.

The zappers were shaped like fat bracelets and felt slimy as they wrapped themselves around my wrists. The woman with the crewcut held a control unit in front of my face. I nodded my understanding. The yellow button would “zap” my nervous system, the amber button would induce temporary paralysis, and the red button would stop my heart. I wondered if the woman had orders to stop short of that. I figured she did. Casad would have a hard time getting any information out of a refried brain. That gave me an edge, but a damned thin one.

Crewcut gestured for me to move, and I obeyed. My escorts walked two ahead and two behind. I didn’t see much of the habitat at first. Just a bunch of maintenance ways, freight tubes, and high-gloss corridors. After all, why march a prisoner through the station’s public areas if they didn’t have to? Still, they were forced to lead me across an enormous observation deck about halfway through the trip. It was packed with people just off the Queen. Most stared open-mouthed at the enormous Jupiter that hung overhead. It was beautiful, and there were lots of “oohs” and “aahs” as people struggled to look up through the triple-thick duraplast.

I scanned the crowd for people I knew, came eyeball to eyeball with Bey, and was about to say something when crewcut jammed something hard into the middle of my back. Bey looked surprised, alarmed, and agitated all at once. He pushed an elderly woman out of the way and burrowed into the crowd. A pair of doors marked “AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY” swung open to admit us, and the open area disappeared behind.

The first hint of our destination was a passing glimpse of a laboratory packed with esoteric equipment and staffed by a crew of lab-coated techies. That signaled me that we had moved from the outer world into Doctor Casad’s private domain, a place populated by facts and figures.

We passed a room filled with light so intense that some of it leaked through the plastifiber walls, heard a rhythmic thumping sound, and smelled something so foul it made crewcut swear out loud. Then we passed through an emergency lock and entered an area that screamed “executive offices” with every inch of its deeply carpeted floor, art-covered walls, and wood-accented, fiber-formed furniture. The reception area was large and rectangular. Everything was spotless and arranged with the same precision that a staff sergeant admires in a footlocker. The reception desk was circular, stood about chest-high, and had been designed to accommodate the four-armed android mounted at the center of it. He, she, or it had paisley-covered skin, four arms, and a no-nonsense attitude. “Dr. Casad is waiting. Take him in.”

I felt my heart beat faster as I was led through double doors and into the presence of the person who had stolen my life. Marsha Casad was smaller that I had expected, and the similarities between her appearance and Sasha’s were made all the more obvious by the fact that they were standing next to each other. I should have been surprised, but wasn’t. Nothing else had gone properly…why would this?

The elder Casad was prettier than the woman who haunted my dreams and had the same brown eyes, pretty face, and shapely body that her daughter did. A fact that the primitive male part of me noticed and reacted to in spite of the fact that to do so was stupid-proof positive that I’m at least three rounds short of a full magazine. But the mother was harder than the daughter, her flesh closer to the bone, her eyes like lasers. Power surrounded her like a cloak and was so much a part of her that it was taken for granted.

Both women stood with their backs to a steel-framed Jupiter. Its storm-lashed surface moved with dreamlike slowness. Sasha spoke first. She was apologetic. “I’m sorry, Max, I really am, but you forgot to disable the com set.”

I swore softly. Of course! The com set had been voice-activated. It had been a simple matter to call a steward, have herself released, and contact her mother. Damn. All that energy, all that effort, only to have it end like this. I shrugged. “Don’t worry, kid. You did what you had to do.”

Sasha nodded, but her chin trembled, and I saw a tear trickle down her cheek. Not so her mother. She was brisk and rather cheerful. Her eyes glittered like those of the robo-snake outside Wamba’s quarters. There was no understanding or mercy in them, just her unrelenting will. The voice was cold and distant. “You are no longer equipped to appreciate the importance of this, Maxon, but thanks to the information stored in your head, a new era is about to begin.”

I saw the ego in her eyes, the pride in what she had accomplished, and took advantage of it. “A new era? What does that mean?”

The elder Casad smiled. “It means freedom! Freedom to travel beyond the limits of our solar system!”

Sasha got it first, confirming that she hadn’t known the reason behind her mission, and cementing my affection for her. “Beyond our solar system? A star drive?”

Her mother nodded. “Yes. It will be known as the Casad Drive, and it will carry millions, even billions of human beings to distant stars. “Imagine,” she said, momentarily caught up in a glory of her own making, “a new beginning! A breakthrough so important, so liberating, that it will change the course of history. And I made it happen!”

The way Dr. Casad said it called for applause, and judging from her expression, I think she actually heard it thunder across a thousand years of immortality.

But the rest of us were silent. Shasha looked uncomfortable. The guards shuffled their feet. Metal pinged in response to a temperature fluctuation. Finally, after what seemed like minutes, but was actually seconds, the scientist’s eyes rolled into focus and she returned from fantasy land. Her words were precise and to the point. “Take him to Lab 16. Tell Sanchez to wire him up. I’ll be along in fifteen minutes or so.”

Sasha tried to move in my direction, but her mother grabbed an arm. Crewcut nudged me towards the door, and there seemed to be little point in resisting. What with zappers on my wrists and four able-bodied guards, there was no chance of escape.

That being the case, I tried to come up with a suitably nonchalant response and failed. The four-armed android didn’t even bother to look up as they marched me down the hall. I heard the same thumping I’d heard before, saw light leak through plastifiber walls, and was ordered down a side corridor. The air smelled of ozone. An equipment-laden autocart whirred by. I assumed these were among the last sounds, sights, and smells that I would experience. Everything seemed hyper-real, the way it always does when adrenaline pours into the bloodstream and death looms near.

A door marked “Lab 16” appeared in front of me, sensed my presence, and slid open. A worried-looking lab tech hurried forward. She wore a severe pageboy, no jewelry, and an immaculate lab coat. An I.D. badge hung from her breast pocket and identified her as Carla Sanchez. She gave me the same sort of look a butcher gives a side of beef and pointed over her shoulder. “Place him on the table and strap him down.”

The table looked like the kind you find in well-equipped operating rooms. It was backed by a wall full of vid screens and banks of computer equipment. The autosurgeon stood crouched over the table. Its arms whirred as servos were tested and found to be in working order.

I remembered the dreams that weren’t dreams and tried to escape. The zappers clamped down on my wrists and pain lanced through my nervous system. I screamed and kept on screaming as the guards lifted me onto the table, applied the straps, and removed the zappers. The pain disappeared and left me sobbing for breath.

Sanchez appeared between me and the ceiling, waved a scanner in front of my eyes, and squinted at the reading. She smelled of soap, and the fragrance remained even after she had disappeared. I liked the smell, even though I knew it was stupid, and marveled at how the male part of me never quit. I whimpered pitifully and nobody came.

Things got complicated after that. More people entered the room. Needles entered my veins, wires were hooked to various parts of my anatomy, and people talked as though I wasn’t there. Their voices seemed to float on an ocean of drug-induced happiness.

“Is this the one?”

“Yup, that’s him.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

“What happens next?”

“The doc comes, we pump him dry, and break for lunch.”

“Just like that.”

“You got a better idea?”

“No.”

“Then shut the hell up and align this equipment. One glitch, one error, and everyone pays.”

There was more of the same, but I lost interest and drifted away. That’s where I was when I heard someone shout, heard the steady thump, thump, thump of an automatic flechette gun, and felt something heavy land on my chest. It smelled of soap.

Then I heard someone call my name, struggled to respond, and discovered that I couldn’t. I heard more thumping as someone fired back. A man yelled, “Hit the switch! Start the transfer!” and data rose around me like a suffocating tide. Words, images, and numbers filled my throat, mouth, nose, and ears. And then, just when I seemed certain to drown in a flood of information, something powerful started to suck the data away, pulling me along with it. I fought the sensation for a while, determined to save what remained of my personhood, but the effort was pointless. The suction was too powerful for me to resist. I let go and was removed from my body.