“How is the Ol’ Molly Dook treating ye?” Targon pressed. That was the name of his ship.
“She’s treating us well,” Rhea said.
Targon beamed. “Still can’t believe I’m carrying the famous Warden of Rust Town in me hold! It’s like the pixie dust of the faeries has been sprinkled into ma eyes, every time I look at ye!”
Rhea gave Will an uncomfortable glance. “Uh, thanks, I guess.”
“Don’t ye be worryin’ lass, it’s a compliment for sure,” Targon said. “So how is me favorite passenger doing today then? The quarters too tight for ye? Want to swap with me stateroom?”
“Keeping in mind that what he calls a stateroom is about half the size of this bay,” Horatio said.
“Certainly, but there are no crates me boy!” Targon shot back at the robot.
“It’s okay,” Rhea said. “I don’t want to bother you. I’m happy—”
“No, no, no,” Targon said. “It’s no bother at all. Come on then, lassy, to the stateroom with ye.”
He jetted forward and reached down to grab her arm, but Rhea slid to the side. “Please, I insist. I like it here. With my friends.”
Targon sighed. “Friends. All about the friends, is it? And I’m not a friend? The man who’s giving you a free lugging to Ganymede? All right. But let it not be said that Targon did not offer the Warden his stateroom!”
“It won’t be said,” Rhea assured him. “I mean, it will be said.” She paused in confusion. “Never mind.”
“So then, ye know we still got about two weeks to go, right?” Targon asked. “I figured to best pass the time, we shall play virtual cards!”
“I’ll pass,” Will said. “I hate cards.”
“Cards are not to my liking,” Horatio agreed.
Targon glanced hopefully at Rhea.
“Sorry, big guy,” she said.
Targon slumped. “Very well. It’s been so long since I’ve had me some passengers. I mean real passengers, not the virtual, simulated kind. I sometimes conjure them to entertain me-self, you see. So I’m not quite certain how to entertain the real deal.”
“You don’t have to,” Rhea said.
“I definitely agree,” Will said. “Feel free to hang out on the bridge, or your stateroom, or wherever it is you ordinarily pass the time between planets.”
“That would be in virtual reality,” Targon said. “It’s the best way to kill a few days when the ship’s journeying between planets. Come on, ye all might as well join me. We don’t have to play cards, that was just something I thought ye Rust Towners would like. Speaking of Rust Town, might I suggest a virtual recreation of the Battle of Rust Town? Someone uploaded a new Battle Engine mod the other day, based on the footage of our famous Warden fighting the Hydras. I downloaded it before I left Earth. It’s even more realistic than ever before!”
“I’d rather not relive that event, thank you,” Rhea said.
“Nor I,” Horatio said.
“Fine, fine, we can play Robot Wars if ye insist then,” Targon said. “I know it’s what ye really want, seeing as I was once a world champion player. Ye want to learn from me, which is understandable. I’m happy to teach ye, and once ye get good, Bob’s your uncle.”
“No games,” Rhea said. “Seriously.”
“All right, all right,” Targon said. “I’ll try again tomorrow.”
“By the way Trader, I got a question,” Will said. “How close are we going to pass to Jupiter? I’ve heard the radiation isn’t… well, very nice.”
Targon snorted. “Oh no, it isn’t very nice indeed. We’re going to give Jupiter a wide berth—the radiation is one concern, me friend, but the bigger concern is the gravity. It can be hard on me engines, but lucky for us, Ganymede will be on the far side when we arrive.”
“You can use the gravity as a slingshot,” Horatio said.
“Oh, me fine-feathered robot, I intend to!” Targon told Horatio. “But, sadly, we will be needing a lot of delta-v to escape this handy slingshot, so once we’re past Jupiter it’s going to take another few days to reach Ganymede. We’ll be exposed to quite a bit of radiation during that time, as one of ye mentioned, I can’t remember who… oh yes, the dirty-haired one.”
“Who’s the ‘dirty-haired’ one?” Will asked.
“That’s you,” Rhea said.
“Hey, I wash my dreadlocks every day…” Will said. “Sort of.”
“Of course ye do,” Targon said. “Especially when there’s a water ration aboard! Wastin’ it, are ye?”
Will glared at the man.
“Where was I?” Targon asked. “Oh yes. The radiation. The armored hull will absorb most of it.”
Targon had explained a little bit about how that armor worked. It was augmented by their trash, which was processed into plastic-filled tiles that would be removed when they reached spaceport. The water required for the crew was also stored strategically about the hull, creating an extra layer of radiation protection beneath the armor. That water was recycled and replaced as they used it.
“Even so,” Targon continued. “The radiation will get fairly strong when we’re at the closest approach to Jupiter. Don’t worry, they’ll give you rad therapy when you arrive at Centaar.” That was the Europan base on Ganymede where Rhea was headed.
“Are you sure I’ll need rad therapy?” Rhea asked. “Considering my makeup…”
Targon rubbed his upper lip. “Mmm. Maybe not ye, me Miss Warden, seeing as ye are a cyborg and all. But him, he’ll definitely need a patch.” The merchant nodded at Will. “Plus a good hair washing.”
Will growled softly. Then: “What about you? You’re human… radiation doesn’t affect you?”
The trader pulled up his sleeve to reveal a white square attached to his bicep. “Got meself an anti-rad patch. Anyhoo, I guess I’ll leave ye to your cogitations. Please, though, join me in a virtual gaming session later. Robot Wars. Or… ye pick the poison.”
“We will,” Rhea promised, though she had no intention of doing so.
With that, Targon bowed and jetted out.
2
The days passed at a crawl. Targon continued to visit at least twice a day, and always nagged Rhea and the others to join him in VR. “It would be an honor to
