COSMIC TALES 10: UPGRADE
By
Richard C. Parr
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PUBLISHED BY
Cosmic Tales 10: Upgrade
Copyright (C) 2015 by Richard C. Parr
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This particular copy of the eBook series Cosmic Tales is licensed for the enjoyment of everyone. It may be freely distributed to others without conditions. Thank you for supporting the author by downloading and reading this story.
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Upgrade
Giltek, standing at five feet tall with large features and a snapping tail, was an expert robotics engineer and a primary source for imported components, upgrade material and installations on Ban Zaadan. A long-term dweller on the planet, he stayed in an apartment overlooking the marketplace of a steel structured city. Buildings stood and hung like stalactites and stalagmites, wide at the edge and extremely narrow at the summit, with some airborne, defying gravity and dangling like rustic needles, sporting thousands of windows shedding light onto an endless bustling metropolis. There were more robots than beings walking the avenues. It was a gigantic display of technological proficiency and a scrap yard of walking cogs and joints. Little beetle bots delivered packages to doors of businesses, and inside these packages were lots of smaller robotic spiders containing video messages and encrypted data ready to be passed on to the recipient. At times it was difficult for Giltek to tell who or what was in charge of the metallic urban hive, and so he tried to switch off his highly evolved reptilian insightful mind, lest he lose himself down the rabbit hole of ever present information and venture past the point of no return.
He placed a rack of components on his desk and sifted through each individual item, blowing dust off semi-assembled equipment including batteries, cells, pistol enhancers, pieces of engine, oily robotic heads and cracked motherboards. After searching, he acknowledged there was nothing viable he could salvage, repair and sell on, and he resigned himself to taking a seat by the window, drinking a beer and humming a tune in his head, wondering if tomorrow would bring better business, wondering if he should just quit, accept his losses and take up paid work for his planet's government. At least he would see fruition in his work and an end result, but that would mean going home, and that would mean risking arrest and imprisonment.
"Where are the buyers and the other engineers?" he said to himself. "This city is a dump of gadgetry and robotics. Why isn't the public interested in the business I offer?"
A ball droid painted green floated from the kitchen having performed its cleaning duties and focused its giant centre eye on Giltek. It bleeped a few off key notes.
"Yes, Doink?"
"A--e-a--r-r-rrr--d-d-d--oooo..."
"Thank you, you did a fantastic job. I am very grateful for your loyalty. Go ahead and have some down time."
As Doink wandered off, it stopped and encountered a discrepancy in its sensors. It performed a routine scan of the floor and discovered one being and one robot fast approaching the apartment. It went back to its master and relayed the information. Giltek grabbed the pistol he had constructed that morning and hid by the door, crouching and waiting. Doink prepared its focus beam for maximum damage effect and hovered poised between the window and the door. The door to Giltek's apartment flew open to reveal a human male and an oversized dual gendered robot. The human quickly saw Doink and ducked with instinct, moving out of the way of a lethal blow which would have blown his head clean off and soldered it to the wall of the corridor. When Giltek saw who it was, he deactivated his pistol and ordered Doink to hold its fire.
"For crying out loud, Wingclipper. How many times do I have to tell you that on this planet, you sure as hell knock and announce your name, then you wait to be called in. I thought you were the police."
"What have you done this time, you naughty lizard?" said Wingclipper as he strutted around the apartment, looking at opened letters and picking up a newspaper.
"Put those down!"
"Hey, old buddy. Relax. I'm just seeing what you've been up to. Oh, nice wallpaper, by the way. Really gives a dripping abandoned basement bathroom effect to the pad. Lovely. What happened to your flat screen?"
Wingclipper stood staring at a wide wall mounted movie player with its casing removed, exposing a bitter myriad of wiring, fuses and motherboards to the onlooker, and making the screen look extremely vulnerable and bare.
"Man, if you sneezed I bet the whole thing would fall apart," said Wingclipper.
"What's your business here? Are you in trouble again?"
"Well...do you remember that game of cards in the taverna?"
Giltek gave himself a mental slap. Of course. When would Captain Phoenix Wingclipper forget a situation where money was involved? He was the most meticulous and organised at keeping his books balanced, taking note of every incoming and outgoing, and especially when it came to cards, who owed him money or favours and how he could be repaid.
"Lizard man, my captain has reminded me to say that you still owe him big time."
"Wingclipper, your robot needs a memory wipe."
"Funnily enough, that's why I'm here. 234 is experiencing some major difficulties and I need your help getting him fixed up and ready for the big adventure."
"Oh, yeah? What's that?"
Wingclipper rotated his arms around his head and played an extremely loud strumming of a fret board, moving his fingers to imaginary strings and making jumbled sounds of many notes playing at once.
"There's a conflict coming," he started singing in the style of death metal. "It's the end of ti-i-imes-ah! There's no escape-ah! From the onslaught of multiple invasion!"
"So, card game aside, even though that was ages ago and even the other players don't have as good a memory as you, or keep scores for that kind of thing, why the living hell should I fix up the tin man?"
"Because I'm willing to pay a substantial fee."
"That's the Wingclipper and the answer I was looking for. Now you have my full attention. How much?"
"A thousand notes."
"Pah!" said Giltek, throwing up his arms, lashing his tail and walking into the kitchen. "Two thousand notes for this kind of robot," he shouted back.
"All right, I'll meet you half way."
"Fifteen hundred will not cut it. Two thousand or you get out of my apartment."
"I'm not stupid, Giltek. I know your business is failing. I know you're a wanted man. Fifteen hundred is more than enough for a ticket off this planet. That's what you desperately want right now, not extra business. A chance to go home and make amends. Trust me, I know what it's like to be away from home and feeling like you want to risk your freedom in order to return, but secretly, you acknowledge that you can only move on and close that past chapter, hoping that others will forgive you for the crimes you've committed. You start to hope that other people have a shorter memory."
Giltek emerged slowly from the kitchen carrying two beer filled glasses and wearing a sombre expression.
"Eighteen hundred, no less."
"Seventeen hundred."
"And fifty!" he said, shoving a glass into Wingclipper's hand. "Bring me the sack of metal."
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"You should have gone back to the military," said Giltek. "What you did was disgraceful, abandoning your men in the middle of a battle. How can you accuse others of disloyalty when you cannot even show honour and faithfulness to your own kind?"
"You know my desertion was just a rumour that might be true."
Wingclipper removed a key from his utility belt and placed it into a tiny slot below 234's waistline. 234 gave out a tiny sigh and a pneumatic twitch, then its arms slumped and its head bowed as the twin white lights faded from its eyes. Wingclipper and Gilt
ek used a trolley to wheel 234 and lay him across a metal table. Giltek drew his blinds and switched on a bright lamp, taking in the intricate detail on 234's skull as he opened the exterior flap. Giltek felt the temperature of the room rise with his concentration and the electrics of 234 being opened to the world.
"When's the last time you checked his mainframe?" said Giltek, gesturing to the sea of wires around 234's brain.
"I do it every couple of months."
"This is a first-class robotic assistant. They need at least one check per week. It's a wonder he did not become corrupted by a virus and try to seize your ship."
"That's how I got my forearm scar."
"Honestly. How does a man of your expertise in the brutally organised, fastidious military become so sluggish at performing basic maintenance? Hand me that screwdriver."
"Will this take long?"
"Are you sure you don't want to pay two thousand notes for this?"
"Ok. I'll leave you to it. Let me know when you're done."
Later, Giltek emerged on to the balcony as 234 stood smoking one of his reptilian friend's cigars he had borrowed from his desk. He grinned and breathed out smoke as Giltek, less than impressed, stood shaking his head. Wingclipper removed the cigar and glanced at the building ash ready to fall from its ember.
"A fine specimen of tobacco. Add it to the bill."
"Come with me, Wingclipper. You have some explaining to do."
"That's your job. You are the engineer."
Giltek held out a tiny chip gleaming blue and orange, displaying a miniature city of avenues and dots against the late afternoon sun.
"Ah," said Wingclipper, swallowing his words before they came out and taking on the expression of a naughty child.
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The chip sat on the table while Wingclipper and Giltek glared at each other. Wingclipper reached slowly forwards with his hand, hoping to grab the chip, and in doing so, Giltek responded with his vastly superior reptilian reflexes, batting Wingclipper's hand away before he could grab it. Wingclipper howled in pain.
"You have a lot of explaining to do," said Giltek, folding his arms. "Begin."
"It's like this. Why have a normal chip in the robot when I can have a far more advanced and efficient one for less than half the asking price of a regular chip? Yes I went to a planet, made some friends, exchanged details, went back, made a deal, gave them 234 and they performed the installation, no questions asked, for ten thousand notes. We agreed that no such meeting took place and no illegal chip insertion took place, and in the semi-likely event of getting caught, none of us exist."
"Wingclipper, this chip is illegal throughout the galaxy. It is only used in highly developed military technologies, and not even in militaries we are familiar with. I'm saying that there are way, way superior races out there, probably from distant star systems, who would love to find out how their technology was stolen and used by a lowly AWOL military captain. Entire planets have been invaded over petty thefts like this."
"I look at it like this, Giltek. 234 has a standard processor. This modification makes him operate better, and when the time comes for me to sell on the chip, I can replace it with a regular chip. 234 doesn't notice the difference because he's not a sentient being. He's a robot who only does what he is told. The advanced chip gets sold on and goes through the illegal market, back to whichever race it belongs to, who haven't even noticed it has gone missing. Think of the chip in 234's skull like keeping something in the freezer. My act is to preserve a fine and valuable piece of equipment."
"You are a thief and you will cause conflicts and mass casualties with your irresponsibility. This whole thing is a complete disaster. The owners are probably tracking the chip right now, getting ready to invade this planet so they can retrieve what rightly belongs to them, and hopefully in the process, bring you to justice."
"It's technology. It belongs to everyone."
"For crying out loud, your philanthropic ideals are pointless when it comes to dealing with these kinds of advanced beings! You know who they are and you know that they will kill millions to get back their property! How could you be so immature?"
"All right. I'm sorry."
"A certain religious prophecy talks about the day a distant evil race will come to take back what belongs to them, causing a massive war provoked by the act of one simple selfish human. I really wonder if you've done it this time."
Giltek covered his eyes and almost sighed himself out of consciousness. Wingclipper stood looking at the chip, trying to display emotion and trying to empathise with the trouble he had caused. He felt a sense of entitlement and ownership. Why should he obey the rules of not stealing technology? Why should he kowtow to the conventional belief of staying in a military he hated, doing a job nobody showed him any gratitude for? Why not live the life of a travelling, destitute spaceman who can bargain for, cling onto and sell on an item he can accidentally discover and claim to be his?
"I need some time to think about what I've done," said Wingclipper, leaving the apartment and passing cleaning robots as he walked down the corridor. Giltek's reptilian sensitivity came out and felt the unease in his friend's voice. With guilt, he placed his head around the door and watched his friend venture off with a lowered head and a torn dignity. He began to wonder if he had been to harsh.
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"Another one," said Wingclipper, sliding his glass along the sleek, smooth and freshly cleaned bar, watching it sleekly move and glide smoothly to a stop straight into the oversized hands of a four-eyed barman, who, at the same time, kept a keen eye on the increasingly threatening behaviour at the rammed bar. Wingclipper flinched as another elbow barged into his rib cage on its way through the tightened gathered line at the front of the bar, as beings lost their patience waiting to be served. A few minutes later, the next round of reddish orange fluorescent liquid in a short glass arrived in Wingclipper's periphery and he placed the coins on the bar, to be snatched by an overworked and steaming robot desperate to keep up with the insurmountable number of drinks orders and shouting faces. Wingclipper knocked back the glass and slid it along the bar again. "Another," he said, and the robot quivered as it nodded. Was there a tab? Were they keeping track? Either way, Wingclipper was beyond the caring stage and entering the zone of generosity mixed with the urge to eat and dance like a maniac. As he stood up ready to strut his stuff over at the heaving dance floor filled with luscious reptilian females and dark blue haired, light blue skinned maidens fresh from doing battle, a scaly hand pressed against his shoulders and he was forced into his seat.
"I knew you would be here," said Giltek as he took the next stool.
"Let's take the Chromium Bullet for a ride and fly over the mountains," said Wingclipper. "Put on some pounding disco music and throw shapes to the wind."
"Not in your state."
A repeat of the reddish orange liquid slid across the bar towards Wingclipper and Giltek reacted with phenomenal speed to snatch the glass before it got to its intended recipient. Wingclipper grimaced as Giltek threw it into his throat and slammed the glass on the bar.
"You owe me a drink now," said Wingclipper.
"Take it out of the seventeen hundred and fifty," he replied with a slight smirk, and Wingclipper cackled, then burped. The room was slowly beginning to revolve, and he adjusted his head with minor movement and rotation as a feeling of unease and dizziness set in.
"Hey, hey. Pay attention, Wingclipper. I'm asking you a question."
"Wh...wharrisit?"
"Barman, water please. I want to know what your long term plan is. What's your ambition?"
"Right now?"
"Yeah."
"I...I've already ach...achieved it, and now you're rui...ruining it by sob...burp...sobering me up."
"I mean what's your goal in life?"
The barman slid a glass of water along the bar and Wingclipper seized it expertly, draining the glass, and disappointed with the lack of an alcoholic taste, he cast it aside.
"My goal is to lead a team in battle to the ultimate victory, to get to fly the best craft, the fastest ships, and to not be answerable to any higher command. I'm waiting for the big war. I want to be the best damned for hire mercenary in the galaxy. Yeah, that's what I'll be. I will -"
As Wingclipper got up, he fumbled, kicked his stool over and collapsed into Giltek, who quickly propped Wingclipper upright, placed his arm over his shoulder and walked the captain to the exit. Wingclipper got some notes out of his wallet and dropped them on the floor to pay the bill.
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Wingclipper sat at Giltek's dinner table with his palms firmly pressed against his face. Red eyed, queasy and avoidant of daylight, he squinted as Giltek opened a curtain and allowed the sun to shine in, shielding the rays from his sensitive vision with a half hearted sweep of his hand. Giltek dumped a cup of the cheapest brand of coffee on the table and Wingclipper took a heavy gulp, grimacing as he swallowed and coughing himself into sobriety.
"No milk or sugar?"
"Can't get either in this city."
When Wingclipper finished the coffee, Giltek called him through to the lounge where 234 was sitting and patiently staring into space. Giltek pounded his fist against 234's lower back and the robot came to life, looking around animatedly and recognising his owner.