“Jesus, they let you on a passenger plane?”
“I can compact myself for storage when necessary.” With a clatter of metal gears, the bot retracted tentacles, head, and legs, and became a rectangular box three feet tall and two feet wide. It sprang apart again, stretching to its full seven foot height, the whole process happening in seconds.
Slim looked up at the bot again, taking in the waving arms, eyes, and height. “You are one ugly motherfucker. Call me Slim.”
“OK, Slim. By my calculations the other members of the team will be here shortly. We took different planes.”
Slim looked the robot up and down again, uneasy at the thought of working with it. He gestured to the bartender for another tequila.
“How do you like it here in Los Angeles?” the robot asked.
Slim sighed inside. He didn’t particularly care one way or the other about AIs, unlike some people, but then again, he didn’t really see the point of chatting with them. Couldn’t the thing just wait there patiently? “It’s fine.”
“I like the sunshine.”
Slim leaned forward and peered closely at what passed for the robot’s face. “You like the sunshine?” He didn’t bother to conceal his disdain.
“Yes, I find it warming.”
For Christ’s sake. The damn thing was a machine. Slim reached back, scooped up the shot and downed it. “Yeah, fucking warm, alright.”
He was rescued by the arrival of a man and a woman, ex-military from the way they walked, British from their teeth and complexion. They approached and smiled at the robot, getting the faraway look of people using their implants. Then they turned to Slim. “Samuel Scribe?”
“Thank God, you saved me here from Mr. Conversation.”
The woman took rapid steps forward, and before Slim had time to react, he found her fist pressed hard against the soft underside of his jaw, trapping him against the bar. “We served two tours with Helena. She saved our lives more bloody times than I can count and a hundred of you wouldn’t be worth one of her. Treat the lady with respect.”
Slim moved his head away and rubbed his neck. A fucking woman machine. What made one AI choose to identify as male and another female when there was nothing to differentiate them? He said nothing. There was no understanding AI.
“Look here,” the man said, “we have to work together and we might as well get along. Let’s start over.” He held his hand out. “I’m Brett.”
Slim shook, felt obvious callouses, and though he didn’t get his hand crushed there was an implied strength in the man’s grip. “Slim.”
“Alright, Slim. You got transportation and gear?”
“Yeah, two cars. The gear needs to be divvied up.”
The woman grunted grudgingly. “Beverly.” She had a fat space between her two front teeth, and her nose had obviously been broken at some time, but she was still pretty.
Slim smiled. “Nice to meet you, Beverly.”
Helena waved two tentacles. “Olivia will be here in thirty seconds.”
The three mercenaries looked in the same direction as a tall, dark-haired woman walked up. She clasped Brett’s hand in a firm shake, touched extremities with the bot, and finally embraced the other woman. The two exchanged a long kiss, and Slim looked away. There went any chance with either of them.
“Who’s the wanker?” the newcomer asked in an Australian accent.
“Samuel Scribe,” Beverly answered, “our local contact. He goes by Slim.”
Slim nodded to the woman.
Her gaze slid across him without the slightest acknowledgement. “Let’s go.”
The others nodded, picking up the small duffel bags they had come in with, and walked away.
Slim gritted his teeth and stood up. He didn’t like these people and their attitude. But they were just grunts for hire, with no idea who or what Adam was. He’d put up with them until their job was done.
He caught up with them, then led the way to the parking garage and the two cars. The black and silver Bugatti glinted painfully in the sun. By comparison, the tan Honda groundcar next to it was so unnoticeable as to almost disappear.
“Who’s taking the aircar?” Slim asked, pulling out his pocket computer to transfer the digital keys.
“Send them to all of us,” Brett said. “Both sets of keys.”
Slim swiped at the handheld, sending the keys to everyone.
Brett opened the Honda’s trunk and Beverly took care of the Bugatti. Brett slid the cardboard box inside close and folded back the lid. He pulled out the trademark stubby profile of H&K stun guns. He checked the action of the first and passed it to Helena, who made it disappear somewhere inside her mechanical body.
Slim looked around, but there was no one else in sight. They had nerve pulling out guns in broad daylight.
Beverly mirrored Brett’s actions, passing the first stun gun to Olivia, and taking the second for herself. She dug into the second box, pulling out a Ruger 12 mm Magnum pistol. “Armor-piercing rounds?”
“Yeah,” Slim said. “Adam said you’d want ’em if you went up against bots.” Slim pointed to the massive muzzle. “Seems like you could kill an elephant with one of those.”
“If we go up against combat bots,” Brett said, “it’ll be a hell of a lot worse than an elephant. What else have you got for us?”
“Black box number one is a camera jammer. It’ll find any cameras in your area and alter their feeds on the fly. Makes you invisible.”
Beverly let out a short whistle. “Your friend is well funded. What’s this?” She held up a small black cube with red nubs protruding from the corners.
“Implant stunner. Calibrate it with your IDs ahead of time, whatever you’re using for this job, and when you activate it, it’ll knock out anyone not on your whitelist within thirty meters. But you have to destroy it afterwards. If you leave it and it’s found, Adam will kill you.”
“Good. What else?”
“The rod is a neural disruptor. You’ll have to get up close to the girl to use it. Adam says the implant stunner won’t work on her.”
“Roger that,” Brett said. “Where’s the target?”
“Converted apartment building near the garment district. Address is programmed in. My partner Tony is there watching her.”
“Fine, you ride with us in the groundcar,” Brett said.
“I’ll drive,” Helena called, and moved into position next to the car. With a complex set of folding moves, the massive bot was suddenly inside the car.
Slim watched the two women climb into the aircar, then got into the back seat of the Honda, behind Brett and Helena. He wasn’t fond of being a passenger, but he was still eager to see how this team of hired guns operated. That girl didn’t stand a chance.
The car pulled away, Helena overriding the autopilot. The aircar paralleled their route, taking the airlane two levels up. They stuck to the speed of the traffic, doing nothing unusual to draw attention. Slim looked at the cars around them: frazzled families coming home from vacation and tired business travelers taking a nap while the autopilots drove them home. He couldn’t imagine the mundaneness of such a life. Then they merged onto the highway and soon the speeds got too fast to see anything. Slim leaned back and closed his eyes.
Fifteen minutes later they pulled off the highway and parked in the alley next to the noodle shop where Tony was waiting. Slim checked his own two handguns. He had the anti-bot gun in a holster under his jacket and the stunner was in a holster pressing into his back.
Helena waved a metallic tentacle. “Beverly’s circling around the back in the aircar. I’ll wait here while you two confirm the target’s status.”