Network Effect

We used ART’s EVAC suits, which were better than the ones the Preservation survey owned. (They had secondary internal protective suits for planetary exploration, not that we’d need them on the transport.) Though first I ran checks to make sure there was no contamination in their onboard systems. (It was unlikely—the power usage stats said the suits had been inactive throughout ART’s whole memory disruption incident—but I was going to be paranoid until I figured out how ART had been attacked.) (I mean, I’ll be paranoid after that, too, but only about the usual things.)

We were taking Eletra with us, and Arada had offered to bring Ras’s body over, too, but Leonide had said it wasn’t necessary and we could dispose of it. That upset the humans and it sort of upset me, too, which you wouldn’t think it would, since the organic parts of dead SecUnits (and the parts that get shot off, cut off, crushed, whatever) go into the recyclers. But it did. As Ratthi put it, “You’d think they could at least pretend to give a damn.”

ART had closed in to the Barish-Estranza transport and used its cargo tractors to maneuver the container of repair supplies over to the transport’s module dock. Then Arada and I made the short trip to the transport’s starboard airlock, with Eletra’s suit in tow.

(On the way over, I made sure I had a private channel with Arada’s EVAC suit, and I told her, “Remember, I’m not your coworker or your employee or your bodyguard. I’m a tool, not a person.” Overse had told her this earlier but I wanted to make sure she understood.

Arada made an unhappy noise. After 3.2 seconds, she said, “I understand. Don’t worry.”)

Preservation’s ships are different, so stepping onto a Corporation Rim transport was familiar in a weird way. (A weirdly unpleasant way that disrupted the organic parts of my insides.) I had been shipped as cargo to all my contracts, so 90 percent of my experience with transports and bot pilots was after Dr. Mensah bought me and I’d left Port FreeCommerce. At least Eletra hadn’t lied about the lack of SecUnits aboard; there was no HubSystem in place and they were using their own brand of proprietary tech and not company-standard. But the architecture was similar enough that by the time Arada and I cycled through the lock, their SecSystem thought I had full interactive permissions and their bot pilot had accepted me as a priority contact.

I could do a lot with that. They were lucky we weren’t here to hurt them.

The airlock foyer held four humans in the red-brown Barish-Estranza corporate livery, under heavy tactical gear and helmets, all armed with projectile weapons. (My ex-owner bond company would never have paid for such nice equipment. Barish-Estranza must put a lot of effort into their branding.)

Problem? Arada asked me on our private channel that I had made certain the transport’s SecSystem wouldn’t see.

No. It’s security procedure. If it wasn’t, there was going to be a whole lot of trouble for Barish-Estranza.

The first crew person/potential hostile said, “Remove your suits, please.”

That was a relief. Taking out four armed humans while wearing an EVAC suit would have been annoying.

As my suit opened and I stepped out, I detected a subliminal release of tension that made my threat assessment drop by 3 percent. (Note: humans do not generally look relieved when a SecUnit appears, so I doubted they knew what I was. But I was 95 percent certain they were reacting to the fact that I wasn’t a gray Target person.) When Eletra, then Arada stepped out of their suits, the threat assessment dropped a solid 10 percent.

They clearly recognized Eletra, and she recognized them, in a confused way. An unarmed crew member with a personnel resources feed-tag came forward to take her arm and lead her away.

Another crew person said, “This way, Dr. Arada.”

They led us through another hatch and down a utilitarian corridor, then into a meeting room. It had a circle of low-backed padded couches in the center around a large floating display bubble. Everything was newish and well kept (no aging upholstery here) with bars of decorative abstract designs in Barish-Estranza colors on the walls and padded seats.

Leonide was already waiting on the couch. She said, “Dr. Arada,” and gestured to a seat opposite her. The supply transport’s comm vid might have been doing some cosmetic editing, too, because in person faint stress and fatigue signs were visible around Leonide’s eyes and mouth, though she still looked perfect enough to be in a media serial.