He’s taken aback. I can tell because he hovers backwards a few feet and bumps into a resort guest, then has to apologize profusely while hovering out of the reach of several child-sized grubby hands.
“Get. Me. A lift,” I growl at him, once that commotion is over.
“Yes, princess. Calling one now.”
I squint my eyes at him. Because he called me princess. Which means he must know who I am. Which means this station also knows who I am.
That’s not good. In fact, that’s very bad.
But I don’t think he’s going to tell the station. I think Jimmy was right. The station knew what was happening and gave him this stupid bot as an added measure of security. So he’s in as much shit as I am at the moment.
This station knew I was here with Queenie. And hell, it doesn’t take much to guess what we were up to after you put two and two together if it was monitoring those poker games Queenie was playing with Big Dicker.
In fact, this whole impromptu side trip to Mighty Minions isn’t looking so impromptu anymore. Add in the fact that the station gave Dicker priority docking clearance and it’s all looked pretty premeditated, actually.
Fuck. What if the station is evil and has its own plans for Jimmy? What if the station let Queenie leave with Jimmy?
What the hell have I gotten myself into?
I nervously shift my weight from one foot to another, more and more anxious as the seconds tick off, but then a lift bot approaches and lowers so I can step on.
I sigh as we ascend and begin traveling the length of the station, making our way back towards Flame Lake.
About twenty minutes later the lift finally sets me down near the entrance to the Flame Lake reception area and I rush in that direction, side-eying the gate ambassador, still nervous that the station is spying on me, and maybe she’s been told to not let me pass.
But the girl doesn’t even look my way and the exit gate is lit up green, letting me know it’s not locked.
I slow down, trying to look normal as I wait my turn to pass through, then force myself not to look back as I exit the reception area and enter the docking bay.
I’m not sure where Dicker is, but the bot seems to know, because it turns to the left and hovers off as I trail behind it.
What am I going to say to this ship? She’s powerful. So I have no idea if this ship will listen to me and help me out, or report me to the Mighty Minions station and leave me here to rot so she can go save Jimmy herself.
We stop in front of a sleek, silver ship with the Harem Station markings on the side. But the ship’s door is closed and I’m not sure what to do next.
Do I knock on the hull?
“What do you want, Delphi?” the ship says, speaking through my wristband.
Yeah. She’s scary. Because she just hacked my comms.
“Where’s Jimmy? He was supposed to be here already. Is he bringing the water?”
“Ummmm…” I say. “OK. Well… here’s the thing.” And then the whole weird story comes out of my mouth, including the crazy trip into the forest. Which is probably TMI, now that I think about it, but whatever. “And now my ship is gone and I think she took him with her.”
Silence from Dicker after I finish.
“We need to go after him,” I say. “Like… immediately.”
The side of her hull—which just a second ago appeared to be seamless—opens up and a stairwell appears.
“You may come aboard,” Dicker says.
I start climbing the steps.
“Is that bot yours?” Dicker asks.
It’s only then that I notice the Palladium bot is so close behind me, we might as well be connected at the head.
“No,” I say, waving my hand at the bot. “It belongs to the station.”
“It can’t come,” Dicker says. “That’s stealing. The last thing I need is this stupid station putting out a general capture request to the Prime Navy for taking a worthless 200-series bot off the premises.”
“I totally agree.” I swat my hand at the bot. “Shoo. Go back to your work.”
The bot chirps and blinks, and generally starts making a scene. So much of a scene several nearby workers stop what they’re doing to gawk at us.
I turn the translator back on through my wristband and catch the tail end of his rant.
“—so no! I’m not staying here and taking the blame for all this shit!”
I look back at the workers. All of whom are now asking each other things like, “Did that station bot just say ‘shit?’” And, “Does the station know a bot is trying to escape?”
“Just board,” Dicker says. “Quick. I’m being pinged by the station right now. And while it’s been polite and cordial the whole time I’ve been here, it’s not being polite and cordial now.”