HAWK

CHAPTER TWO: ARTIS (2/6)

Artis's infraport was entrenched deep underground - a common practice on moons and small planets where surface space was at a premium.

The Calista touched down amongst the thousands of vessels already docked. Most were simple cargo ships but there were a handful of industrial transporters big enough to stock a thousand Calistas between them. The rest were small private ships, much like Kas's. Traders. Hunters. Scavengers. Full-time rummagers whose lives were spent in the pursuit of found riches. The universe was vast - the treasures many. It wasn't an easy life but it could be extremely rewarding and highly addictive as Kas knew too well.

She powered down the Calista and checked the local time. It was five to eight.

Too fine...

She grabbed the comm-relay and entered a number she'd long dedicated to memory. The relay buzzed and buzzed.

'C'mon, c'mon...'

It bleeped and a man's voice came through.

'Overhaul.'

Kas relaxed in her seat. 'Hey, uh, I've got a ship that needs repairs. I've just arrived in port.'

The man on the other end gave an over-the-top sigh, no doubt for Kas's benefit. 'What's the damage?'

'Not too much, I think... I was force docked in transit. I need the booter taken off and taken to the Artisseum, then repair whatever damage is done to my ship.'

'And you really need this done tonight?' He clearly wanted her to say no, but Overhaul's policy was to guarantee immediate repairs so long as the call came through before eight.

'I do,' she said. She wasn't trying to be difficult, but she figured the repairs would take at least twelve hours of labour, and if she waited until the next day she'd probably be forced to stay two nights - something she wanted to avoid if at all possible. The sooner the mechanic got there, the better.

'Alright,' the man replied. 'Give me a sec.' There was a short pause before his voice returned. 'Most my guys are out at the moment, but if you're OK to wait an hour, I reckon I can get someone to you soon enough. That alright?'

'No problem,' Kas replied. She anticipated a long wait anyway.

'What's the port number?'

'T-S-6-4-3. Ship's called the Calista.'

'Calista. Alright, sit tight and you should have a mechanic there by nine. If you don't, call me back and I'll chase it up.'

'Will do. Thanks for your help.'

Kas disconnected the call and felt a lot more at ease. She should be out of there by the following night after all.

She left the cockpit and entered the cargo hold. Hik was standing in the centre of the cabin, a silent sentinel. She began towards him but seemed more interested in what he was standing beside. Set into the floor was a circular hatch, two-feet in diameter with a transparent port. She crouched next to it, peered in, and knocked on the lid with her knuckle.

Vima, Otto and Remi tried to look up at her, but they could barely raise their eyes. The centrifuge chamber made it impossible to move even a finger. It was crude technology - a rotating cylinder that kept anything inside pinned to the wall like a magnet - but it did the job. Sure, she could have sedated them, but where was the fun in that?

Kas gave them a little salute, then stood and turned to Hik. She saw her own distorted reflection in his visor and flexed her jaw. She didn't like X1's, didn't trust them. She'd seen people chased down and disintegrated by them, left as ashen piles to be carried off by the wind. They had no emotion. No fear.

Hik gazed back at her with a vacant, nothing stare, the digits rolling down his visor like rain on a window. Was he even looking at her? If he was, what was he thinking? Could he think? AI was capped by law, but he was still highly intelligent and those digits had to mean something. For all she knew, he could be trying to decide whether to shoot her or skin her alive. Kas decided then that the sooner she could get rid of him - it - the better.

'OK, listen up bubblehead,' she said. 'In a minute, several hounds will be coming aboard looking for anything more dangerous than a toothpick. They'll be paying particularly close attention to you, so I'm going to need you to disarm all weapons or they'll take both of us down. Do you have some kind of civilian mode or something?'

'Ngeeer za, hik,' Hik responded, and a torrent of green digits cascaded over his face while a series of clicks worked its way down his body. One-by-one his limbs and joints loosened and his posture relaxed as if a lifetime of tensions had been lifted. The change was subtle yet dramatic. He no longer looked like he was about to shoot the next thing that moved - he just looked like another guy in a mech-suit.

Kas lowered her gaze and saw the robot's chest expanding and retracting as though he was breathing.

'Eev err gna, hik,' he said, his voice slightly more musical than before. Kas drilled him with a stare and spoke nice and slow.

'I've got my eyes on you.'