Chapter 18 #3
“Kynan said he was sending someone. I didn’t expect it to be you.”
He shrugged. “Lucky timing. I was already in the area, so it wasn’t much out of my way to take a little detour.” He turned to me then.
Lyra gestured. “Cal, this is?—”
“Talon,” I finished.
“And you’re the low-towner with some Aberdeen equipment. Kynan told me about you.”
“Yeah, that seems to be the case lately,” I said. This whole Mr. Popular thing had gotten old fast.
“I can imagine with how high they put you on their list.” He glanced over his shoulder and back at us. “How about we chat later… after we get you two through security.”
“Sounds good to me,” I said.
Talon led us down a short hallway. Just before we’d enter a larger hallway, he swiped his armlet over a door marked Restricted.
The lock clicked, then he opened the door and motioned us through.
Once we were in what looked like a narrow service corridor, he set the pace at a run until we reached another door.
He opened it, and we found ourselves in a room stacked floor-to-ceiling with luggage.
“Lost or abandoned bags that are outside their reclamation window,” Talon said. “Best place ever to store my own special luggage.” He strode over to a wall and rummaged through several cases, finally pulling out two large cases.
He opened them up. “These are specifically designed to fool the scanners. Trust me, they work. I’ve used them more than once.”
Lyra began perusing one bag, checking both the inside and outside.
This was the part of the plan I thought was crazy when Byte had told me. I checked a bag and was surprised at how solid it was. “You want us to get in these?”
“It’s a tight fit, but it’s the best way through security,” Talon replied.
“Bags don’t go through nearly as rigorous security checks as people do.
You know the way things work—security likes to keep tabs on who comes and goes.
They really don’t care what people bring in or take out unless they can make money off it. ”
“This could work,” Lyra said as she tested fitting inside.
“This will work,” Talon corrected. “And this way, the enforcers will think you two are still hiding up here in Solace Station and will lighten up their search for you planetside. Now, climb in and let’s get you to my ship.”
I sat and had to curl into the fetal position to fit. As Talon went to close the cover, he handed me an oxygen bag. “This should last you for an hour as long as you don’t breathe too fast. You should be to my ship in half that time.”
“Should be? I’d prefer if you said will be,” I said.
“Relax.” Talon grinned. “I mean it. The more you relax, the longer your air will last. But seriously, I’ll be at the ship, ready to let you out as soon as the robo-drones drop you off.”
I glanced at Lyra. “See you at the ship.”
She smiled and winked. “See you there.”
After he sealed us each inside, I muttered, “I don’t like this.”
Neither do I. And do not speak—speaking requires additional air. I, however, can talk with no detriment to our health.
And so it did.
I wanted to learn about Byte and its capabilities, and, as it turned out, it had been wanting to talk to me just as badly.
Except, instead of some good information, I got a rambling amp that talked about protocols, error logs, upgrades, and something it coined “transhumanism” at a level that was about a thousand feet above my head.
On the bright side, the nonstop chatter bored me almost to sleep even as the suitcase I was in was moved and loaded onto a conveyor belt that seemed to roll on forever.
I didn’t realize I had dozed off until I heard Byte saying my name.
Wake up, Cal.
“Huh?” I blurted before I clamped my lips shut, hoping sound didn’t carry outside the luggage.
You are safe to speak. The humans have left. We are sitting in a queue at the scanner. But be sure to conserve your air.
I tensed. “How long have we been here?”
Twenty-four minutes since the belt was stopped. The human supervisors for the scanner left to partake in “Gary’s retirement cake.” With how excited they sounded, the cake must be delicious.
“So we’re not through security yet?”
No. I thought I was clear about that fact. You should work on your reasoning skills.
“How much air do I have left?”
That estimate requires several assumptions, the most significant is how much you can control your breathing. I would gladly control your breathing for you; however, I do not have that functionality yet. I will add that to my upgrade queue.
“How much?” I gritted. The idea that I was sitting, burning through what little air I had to begin with, made my lungs crave to take deep breaths like an addict for a fix.
They should be back here within thirteen minutes. Lyra, assuming she’s controlling her breathing, would have roughly six additional minutes. Females have smaller lungs, and their bodies are more efficient in using oxygen.
“That’s not reassuring,” I said.
I agree. If you die, we die. I do not like this situation at all. Monitoring network traffic is insufficient.
As soon as I heard the ping, I muttered, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
I have prioritized my next upgrade to be able to access and manipulate computer systems. Yes. I am switching all available capacity to coding the next upgrade. You may notice a strain on your energy, and communications may be limited. Focus on your breathing and keep us alive.
“I’m trying my best.”
As it turned out, trying my best was really fucking hard.
Byte was sapping my energy—I felt like I’d pulled an all-nighter.
Worse, I was getting hungrier by the minute.
Cooped up in a piece of luggage with the sole job of slowing my breathing was a battle against my mind and lungs that were convinced I needed a lot more air.
I’d seen monks get into a meditative state that was so still, they appeared dead. I tried to bring forth my inner monk.
After what felt like an hour, I asked, “How’re we looking on time?”
Byte didn’t answer.
The air seemed staler. Was that just me?
What felt like another hour passed, and my muscles felt like they’d been injected with adrenaline. I craved to stretch and kick out, but then I heard two voices. They were muffled but sounded like they were joking. A few seconds later, the conveyor belt started.
My muscles relaxed, but my lungs were fighting me harder than ever for fresh air.
I heard the beeps of a scanner grow closer and closer until it sounded like they were right above me.
I held my breath, afraid that even a movement that small could set off an alarm.
By the time the beeps grew quieter, my lungs were on fire, and I sucked in a breath of warm, wet, bad air.
I couldn’t get enough air, and my body began tensing up. I rolled along the conveyor belt when my suitcase was suddenly dragged off and hit the floor with a painful thud.
I heard Talon’s voice practically on top of me. “I’ll take these from here. Here’s my tag for these two cases.”
“They can be delivered directly to your ship, sir,” another man’s voice said.
“I’m running late for a meeting. You want me to tell my boss that I would’ve made it on time except Solace Station’s bag check was running slow?”
“Fine, whatever. But you’re moving them yourself then.”
I was jostled around again, and I heard Talon grunt just before I landed hard on a metal rack of some kind. There was another grunt, and I felt something hit my suitcase. Two seconds later, I felt movement and the rumbling of a cart speed up.
The burn in my lungs was growing worse by the second, and I gasped for air, no longer able to regulate my breathing.
No matter how deep of breaths I took, I couldn’t get enough air.
I repositioned myself toward the edge of the suitcase as much as possible, trying to suck air through the material, but whatever it was made with, it must’ve been waterproof—not the slightest bit of fresh air came through.
I grabbed the airbag and sucked what I could out of it even though I know that wasn’t how they worked. I got nothing.
The cart’s horn kept beeping, and the cart jerked as it raced through the spaceport.
I tried to focus on what was happening outside, but my body’s survival instincts had kicked in, and nothing in the world mattered except getting air.
I pushed against the bag, trying to break the seal, but the hard sided box gave nothing away.
I kicked at it, but the suitcase didn’t relent.
There was movement, and I hit the floor hard, followed by a scraping sensation and sound.
I kicked harder, but the suitcase must’ve been made of steel.
Gasping, I pulled my collar away from my throat as if that would do anything.
I was knocked around again when the suitcase dropped onto the floor once again.
“Hang in there, buddy,” came Talon’s voice.
All I could do was gasp and punch, though weakness was robbing what strength Byte had left me with. Then the cover opened, and I gasped. Light blinded me as I tumbled from the suitcase, sucking in clean, cool air.
Talon patted my back. “See? Told you I’d get you through security, no problem.”
I would’ve punched him except I was too busy breathing and getting my vision back.
I rolled over, taking long, deep breaths as I stared blankly at the ceiling of a very small ship.
Talon returned with the second suitcase, and I managed to prop myself onto an elbow to watch as he opened it and a gasping Lyra toppled out.
Talon smiled at both of us. “Welcome to Bell Air. Get yourselves buckled in, and I’ll get you planetside in no time.”