The Passive Neural Interface goggles superimposed the hand scanner's data on Bill's vision.
Buffalo Bill>Nothing but hamdingers.
Dark Star>Remove a case.
Bill sighed as he reluctantly reached up and pulled out a case from the top. A tight fit between all the others, it took more effort than Bill wanted to expend. He set it down, opened it up and plucked out a can. Bill turned around, peeled off the top, dumped the canned sandwich into his hand and held it up for the camera dome in the ceiling.
Buffalo Bill>See? Just a hamdinger.
Bill took a large bite.
Buffalo Bill>Surprisingly tasty.
Dark Star>Look behind the one you took out.
Another case of Melti Raspberry Hamdingers.
Buffalo Bill>More hamdingers. You're wrong. Can I go back to bed now?
Dark Star>No. Scan it.
Bill held the hamdinger in his mouth and picked up the hand scanner, aiming it into the gap. At first it appeared to be just another case, but he could only resolve one layer of cans deep and they were significantly colder than the other cases.
Dark Star>Cryogenic equipment.
Buffalo Bill>Congratulations. You're right. It's not just hamdingers. We're smuggling something and didn't know it. Probably happens all the time.
Bill put away the scanner and bit through the sandwich.
Buffalo Bill>Why doesn't anybody like these things? They're really good.
Bill pocketed two more of the cans as he devoured the rest of the slimy sandwich.
Dark Star>Most likely the hamdingers are made of people rumor. People are cheaper than livestock after all.
Buffalo Bill>I never believed that. Vat meat is cheaper than people.
Bill closed the case and shoved it back in the cargo container.
Dark Star>Remove the cases and find out what's concealed in that container.
Bill sealed the container.
Buffalo Bill>You do it.
He closed and locked the cargo hatch.
Dark Star>I will murder you.
Buffalo Bill>logoff
"Fuck off," Bill said as he walked toward the crew quarters, raising the PNI goggles to rest on his forehead. It was an empty threat: Bill had rigged the biomonitor feature of his wristwatch to serve as the trigger for a deadman's switch that would detonate one of the nuclear warheads in Dark Star's arsenal. Dark Star was a homicidal AI, not a suicidal one.
The door to his room was locked and Bill's access code was denied. "Fucker." Bill could manually bypass the controls but decided it wasn't worth the effort. The couch in the duty lounge would be good enough.
The duty lounge couch too small to contain his bulk, Bill's body followed his arm to the floor when he woke up. Even before he rose from the floor Bill logged on to the ship's systems. By the time he tasted the first bite of his second ever hamdinger, Bill saw where each member of the crew was and what they were doing, and he scanned the ship's log. Dark Star arrived in system on schedule and had been docked inside Freepoint Station's hangar for the last eighty-three minutes. Bill thought docking inside was odd as he stepped out of the duty lounge onto the bridge. Even more odd was the bright white lights of the hangar turned red by the filter of human remains splattered across the pilot's cracked windscreen. With another quick glance over the log, Bill saw an entry he had overlooked:
02:47:23/Dark Star>Soft-body collision, insignificant damage sustained.
"DNA scan confirmed the victim's identity," The station's security chief told Captain "Stiff" Walker. "It's Jason Goodwin."
"Oh shit," Bill blurted, spewing out bits of chewed hamdinger. Stiff and the security chief looked at Bill as he casually tucked the open can into his pocket while smothering his face with the remainder of the sandwich. Bill hoped they hadn't noticed the evidence of his illegal pilfering. The security chief only gave a disgusted look before returning his attention to Stiff.
Dark Star>Very attractive, BUFF.
Buffalo Bill>FOAD
"Elaborating on my colleague's astute observation," Stiff said, "That is a significant problem for us. Mr. Goodwin is the only one authorized to receive the cargo we're transporting."
"That raises a few more questions‒"
Buffalo Bill>What are the odds of hitting Goodwin in open space?
"Like: when are you going to clean that mess off my ship?" Stiff pointed up at the bloody windscreen.
"Yes. What? No. That's not our job‒"
Dark Star>I adjusted course when I noticed the body. Unfortunately he was already dead.
Bill promptly left the bridge, not wanting to witness Stiff steer an argument into an irrelevant metaphysical discussion.
Dark Star>You should see this.
The video feed from a surveillance camera in the hangar played on Bill's goggles. A man was standing on a cargolifter under Dark Star's right side cargo container. From the angle of the camera and with Dark Star filling most of the volume of the enormous hangar, he couldn't see exactly what the man was doing. Bill suspected he was tampering with the rescue hatch on the Melti container.
Buffalo Bill>I'll deal with him. I feel like giving someone a beatdown today.
Dark Star>His name is Lester Hegel. He's the one who pushed Jason Goodwin out the airlock.
Buffalo Bill>How did you know that?
Dark Star>The station's AI is very helpful.
Stepping out the bottom of the stairlift onto the hangar deck, Bill walked toward Lester.
Dark Star>Stay off the cargolifter.
Bill approached Lester from under the sloping side of Dark Star's center cargo module. "Hey! What do you think you're doing?"
Lester pulled his head out of the rescue hatch to look down at Bill. "Uh, no problem," he said, "Just a routine customs inspection."
"Do I look that stupid?"
Dark Star>Yes.
"Get out of there before you accidentally release the cargo clamps."
Dark Star>Oops.
The sharp clank of the clamps releasing was followed by the earsplitting screech of cerametal plates sliding against each other.
"Get off the lifter!" Bill shouted as he backed away.
Lester instinctively ducked away from the cargo container accelerating toward him. He tried to correct this mistake but was crushed by the falling container before he could leap clear. The spray of blood soaked Bill and the cargolifter rolled with the container, crashing into the hangar wall.
Buffalo Bill>You did that on purpose you prick!
Trembling from adrenaline surging through his system, Bill tried to push the image of Lester's terrified face out of his mind. The shock Bill felt seemed out of place‒he had seen people killed before and had personally beaten several nearly to death. He concluded it must have been the unexpected and sudden nature of this event that shook him. As two security officers approached him, Bill noticed the static in his goggles caused by a bioelectric charge generated in his agitation. "It was an accident‒"
"Raise your hands!" Both officers drew arc pistols on him.
"I warned him to get out of the rescue hatch," Bill said as he put his hands behind his head. "Don't touch me."
One officer grabbed Bill's wrist and was knocked senseless by a powerful jolt of electricity. The other officer immediately shot Bill repeatedly until he was unquestionably unconscious.
The audiovisual record from Bill's goggles proved to Chief Digham's satisfaction that Lester's death was accidental and Bill made a reasonable attempt to save his life. To keep Bill from pressing charges of excessive use of force, Digham agreed to provide an official apology inscribed on a plaque to be displayed publicly on the station and replace the damaged PNI goggles according to Bill's specifications. Wearing a fresh set of clothes, Bill looked forward to the upgrade as he put on his ancient backup PNI kit and logged on.
Dark Star>Feeling better, Sparky?
Buffalo Bill>Get wiped.
Dark Star>Good. I have arranged for you to have a meeting with Paula Melti. I believe she knows what is inside that container. She has already filed a claim on the container as company property.
Buffalo Bill>She can have it. I don't care.
Dark Star>Go talk to her and find out what is hidden in the container.
Knowing Dark Star would not leave him alone until it had the information, Bill checked the appointment in his datebook.
Buffalo Bill>I'm not taking the spacelift down to the planet. I'll just get into the container and look.
Dark Star>The container is off limit until the cleanup crew is finished with it. They are busy removing Goodwin's remains.
Buffalo Bill>Fine. I'll do it.
Leaving the ship headed for the spacelift, Bill connected to MetaNet and issued an infodump worth 1243¢. Then he realized Dark Star wasn't really interested in what was in the container. Dark Star only wanted the ¢ache value of the information. This wasn't the first time Dark Star had used Bill to scoop valuable info, but now he realized it soon enough to ¢ache in himself.
Wanting to confirm other suspicions, Bill started digging into the station's communication logs. Fortunately, some kind person had already posted the relevant records to MetaNet and Bill only had to pay to open them. Directly hacking the system would have been much harder and more time consuming. An obfuscated trail linked communication from the Dark Star to Lester Hegel, starting immediately after Dark Star arrived in system and ending shortly before Lester's demise. Bill concluded Dark Star had contracted Lester to question Goodwin on the contents of the container. When the answer was unsatisfactory, Dark Star had Lester push Goodwin out an airlock. Getting to splatter Goodwin's corpse all over the front of the ship was a fun bonus for Dark Star.
"You. Need. To. Buy. A. Ticket," The woman at the counter said, "Forty bucks, you big stupid troll."
Bill tilted his head down, locking his eyes on her face like a weapons system locking on its target. He pulled a handful of coins out of his pocket.
Dark Star>Remember your anger management courses. I'll help you count. One.
"That's two shiny red ones."
Dark Star>Two.
Bill's grin had already turned into a frown and now his jaw clenched. He picked out a blue fifty piece and set it on the counter, pocketing the rest.
Dark Star>Three.
"Okay," the ticket agent said, "Now I need your passcard‒"
Dark Star>Four.
"It's the plastic thing with your picture on it," she framed a rectangle with her fingers.
Dark Star>Five.
Bill's right hand now a tight fist under the counter, he thrust his left hand forward, ejecting the 3x8 cm card from the wide wristband of his watch into his palm. With a deft pick and flick of two fingers, he presented the card to the agent.
Dark Star>Six.
She took the card and the money, saying almost inaudibly, "Amazing you can handle a minicard with those big sausage fingers."
Dark Star>Seven.
"All set," the agent dropped the card with a ten buck piece in Bill's open palm. "Better hurry‒lift leaves in five minutes."
Dark Star>Eight.
Bill stuck the card back in its slot and placed the coin on the counter.
Dark Star>Nine.
"Ten," Bill filled the woman's face with his fist, releasing the built-up charge and feeling the satisfying crunch of cartilage and bone. She fell backward, collapsing unconscious to the floor. "Keep the change. You earned it."
Dark Star>She will need reconstructive surgery. Nice of you to help pay for it.
Shocked and fearful onlookers cleared Bill's path as he proceeded to the spacelift. Other passengers gave him generous space as he chose his seat.
Dark Star>Security is coming for you.
Buffalo Bill>Then you better fix it or I'll miss my appointment.
Dark Star>I'm working on it.
A minute later, Bill looked up at a pair of security officers sent to apprehend him.
"Mr. William Ryan," one said. He paused to listen to his earcomm. "Just a moment," he said, turning away. "Diplomatic immunity my ass... Okay... Yes sir... Copy that." He turned to Bill again. "We're sorry about the incident at the ticket counter. We will escort you to the surface to ensure, uh, no one bothers you again."
"Thank you." Bill promptly ignored them.
Buffalo Bill>You're good.
Dark Star>You are now a diplomatic envoy of the SUFR embassy.
A big smile parted Bill's thick facial hair as he resumed his investigation. By the time he stepped off the spacelift, Bill had established Jason Goodwin was paid by Paula Melti to acquire and ship the container of hamdingers, and that she was the majority owner of the Melti Foods Corporation. An exhaustive search of any secrets related to Raspberry Hamdingers only revealed that seven containers of them had been lost, three found, and something tremendously valuable was rumored to be hidden inside one of them. Paula Melti was on the list of people thought to be keeping the information in meatspace. Whoever succeeded in posting the information to MetaNet could expect a very large reward.
Bill's security escorts followed him to the waiting hover car. A burly chauffeur held the door open for him. Bill ducked down to see Paula Melti. "Hello, I'm‒"
The chauffeur clubbed him on the back of the head with a short length of pipe. Bill fell into the vehicle and the security officers happily helped the chauffeur shove Bill's legs inside and close the door.
Bill woke up looking at blue sky through green leaves. Without his goggles, he squinted in the bright natural daylight. Fresh air and the smells of nature assaulted his nose. He sat up on a stone bench, rubbing the back of his head as he looked around. Paula and two well-dressed goons sat on nearby benches. Behind them thick shrubbery concealed sound-absorbing walls. "A privacy garden? And you took my coat away too. You didn't have to hit me."
"You're Buffalo Bill Ryan," Paula said, "Your propensity for violence is well known. I assume you were sent to shake me down for more money. That's not going to happen."
Bill held up a finger, "First of all, only my friends get to call me that. I'll give you a pass this one time. Second, you already claimed the container and you can have it as soon as it comes out of quarantine and customs inspects it. I'm just here to find out why it's so valuable that you'd pay 300k just to ship it. And I'd like to keep a couple cases if you can spare 'em. Raspberry Hamdingers are damn tasty. I'll pay for 'em even."
"We found the cans in your coat pockets. The money was supposed to ensure the container remained sealed. That means bypassing customs if necessary. You really screwed this up. Goodwin said you guys were reliable."
"Yeah. Then he got shoved out an airlock and splattered on our ship. That changed our plans slightly until the dipshit that killed Goodwin dropped the container on himself. It's a good thing there's nothing but hamdingers in there or we'd all be screwed when customs opens it up."
"You didn't find anything else in the container?"
"Scanned it with everything we got and all I saw was Raspberry Hamdingers."
"Goodwin assured me this was the container—"
"The one container of seven that has a secret prize inside? Sorry, I guess it's one of the other four. Goodwin probably figured he'd take your money and bug out before you found out you got hosed."
"I don't believe you. Just keep customs out of my container and bring it down to my padport."
"Whatever lady," Bill said. "The deal was 100 up front and 200 on delivery. Except Goodwin was killed before we could deliver. That's enough money to raise a public ruckus over."
"So this is about getting more money from me. Fine. Bring me the container and you'll get your money. You can keep all the hamdingers."
"Cool. That'll keep me fed for years. Now what should I expect to find when I track down those other four containers?"
"Do we have a deal?"
"Sure."
Once Lester's remains were removed and the container reattached to the ship, Bill found that no inducement was required to keep customs officials out of it. They seemed afraid to go anywhere near it. While the windscreen was being replaced, the crew transferred the cases of hamdingers to the empty left side container and Bill worked on accessing the hidden compartment.
Buffalo Bill>Hahaha! I'm in! Thanks for the assist.
Dark Star>You're nothing without me.
Buffalo Bill>The ¢ache is mine this time. Suck that!
Bill logged off of Dark Star's system and began feeding the audiovideo stream from his goggles directly to MetaNet.
PC/comm>No carrier.
PC/comm/diag>SNR: 3/97
"Yeah," Bill shouted, "Keep jamming me, fucker! I'll buffer the record and send it out on autoconnect as soon as they shut you down! I win this time!"
Bill proceeded into the frigid compartment, ensuring he looked at absolutely everything. He narrated out loud, identifying the cargo container and each item he recognized. He opened several of the cryostorage units, zooming in on the specimen labels as he read them aloud. The Latin species names sounded familiar but Bill couldn't recall exactly why until he found an old Androvidaeon genecoder.
"These are theriandroid embryos." Bill stopped recording and canceled the autoconnect. Solar Imperial law had long ago outlawed theriandroids of any kind and established a death penalty for anyone involved in producing, selling, buying, transporting, possessing, or using them. Any theriandroid discovered would be euthanized. Even the fledgling nations created in the wake of the Galactic War were likely to maintain strict penalties. People were apparently incapable of keeping theriandroids without abusing them in every way possible, at least not for long. Even the various underground rescue groups couldn't protect the ones they saved. These embryos would certainly be born to face a very unkind fate. Bill decided he couldn't allow that to happen.
Leaving the container, Bill was confronted by Stiff, who seemed neither surprised nor upset. "Chief Digham is threatening to fine us if we don't stop RF jamming immediately. Dark Star says it's blocking your signal. I'd like to have at least one friendly port in the galaxy."
Bill pulled off his goggles, looking up at a camera dome on the ceiling, "I'm not transmitting anymore and I canceled the autoconnect."
"I am no longer jamming," Dark Star's synthetic voice sounded overhead.
Stiff said, "Since both of you don't seem to understand what 'No questions asked' means, I'll define it for you. It means you don't open the container regardless what you think the info is worth. What's in the container?"
"Theriandroid embryos and a genecoder," Bill answered.
"Interesting. Ms. Melti is expecting us to deliver this container within two hours. And since you tampered with it, I'm not accepting the balance of our fee. The crew are expecting you to cover the 200k."
"You can't just let her have it," Bill protested.
"Why not? That's what we were paid to do."
"Look, I'm a transhuman, and my life was hell before you signed me as your gunner. Those theriandroids are almost human, and they'll get treated even worse. They'll be expendable workers, spare body parts, test subjects, sex slaves, who knows what else. They deserve better than that."
"What do you plan to do with them?"
"I don't know. Surely we can find someplace they can live safely."
"I didn't know you could be so sentimental about a bunch of embryos." Before Bill could reply, Stiff said, "Take as much as you can and seal the compartment. Make it look like it's never been opened."
Paula Melti insisted Bill be present when she opened the container. While her staff hacker worked to unscramble the security system, her two bodyguards packed explosives around the secret compartment.
Paula's hacker said, "No way Bill opened this compartment. With the doors fused like that, he obviously tried. I've seen his work and I'd put him on the list of top kosher hackers. But there's only so much you can do when you're just meat. Besides, look at him, he can't even keep his kit up to date."
Paula said, "Just confirm it's intact, Mike,"
"Righto. Should be done decrypting the core shortly."
Bill asked, "Why blow it up after you paid so much to get it?"
Ms. Melti gave him a look that said he didn't deserve an answer. "Just because my father was ethically challenged doesn't mean I am. I intend to run my business in a fair, honest, and proper manner. This is one of the last unsavory legacies of his I must obliterate."
Bill was surprised. "Wow. I'm sorry, I just assumed you were another crooked corporate scumbag. Especially after your goon knocked me out."
"The driver was overly enthusiastic and has been dismissed."
Mike said, "Here we go, all restored. And the key... Let's see... Here's the intrusion log... Oh, come on, Bill, really? Reflex keyjammer? I know this thing's thirty years old, but it was a SOTA custom job. Your second try was better. Plexstreaming a sidehill gouger. That coulda worked. Too bad. Let's see what else is in here... No. No one's been in here since it was first sealed."
"You're certain?" Paula asked.
Mike looked at her as though she had just stabbed his brain. "Absolutely. This is what you pay me for. Have I ever failed you?"
"Okay," Paula accepted his expert opinion. She turned to Bill, "Our business is concluded. Soon I should have no further dealings with your ilk. Please get off my property."
"Do you know what's in there?"
"Yes."
"You gonna tell me?"
"No."
"Well, good luck avoiding my ilk," Bill said, returning to the ship. By the time he took a seat at the communications console, Dark Star had already left the ground and Paula's group were safe distance from the container. Bill tracked it with optical sensors to watch it explode spectacularly. As he opened his third can and bit into the hamdinger, Bill was glad he saved the theriandroids and hoped a safe place could be found for them.
Thirty years ago Melti quashed the hamdingers-are-people rumor if not the meme by proving they didn't contain human meat. But Bill wondered if they were made of something that was nearly human. Suddenly the Melti Raspberry Hamdinger didn't taste so good.