At the same time her other hand shot up and she punched it through the faceplate. As with the first robot, the nano machines were already waiting on her fingers, and they swarmed the head, entering through the gaps and vents in the metallic skin.
As the robot struggled in her grasp, she spun her gaze about, searching for other opponents, prepared to use the machine as a shield against any customs officials that remained. She was also ready to activate her Ban’Shar. But the corridor proved empty save for Targon, who watched next to the cockpit entrance—it appeared only these two had boarded.
The robot abruptly went still and floated lifelessly in her grasp. She released it, shoving it away from her. She floated backward until she rested against the bulkhead above her former alcove.
She reenabled her comm node.
“What did ye do?” Targon asked, jetting forward.
“There was just the two of them?” Rhea said.
“Just the two,” Targon agreed.
“Let the others out.”
Targon retrieved the necessary rod. “What have ye done? We’ll be hunted all the way to Mars now. And if we somehow manage to reach the planet, Martian security will destroy me engines before we can even land. This isn’t good. Not at all. We’ll have to surrender, ye know.”
Targon used the rod to open the remaining floor panels. The Wardenites activated their comm nodes as they emerged.
Will floated to one of the disabled robots. “What happened?”
“I introduced the robots to my nano machines when they discovered me,” she said.
He glanced at Targon and taunted: “Guess the anti-scan tech these drug smugglers of yours had wasn’t the best in the business after all. Which would explain why the ship was originally impounded.”
Targon conceded the point with a drop of the eyes and a quick nod.
“So, what now?” Renaldo said. “We can’t just leave orbit. Not with a pair of damaged customs robots aboard our vessel. More security vessels will be arriving soon to check on them. We’re going to be arrested.”
“We could run,” Brinks suggested. “Take shelter in the asteroids until we find a different ship.”
“They’ll outrun us,” Miles said.
Targon threw up his arms. “That’s it. I’m ruined.”
And then the robots shifted in their spacesuits.
Rhea spun toward them, prepared to attack again.
The robots turned their heads to her. The movements were synchronized, and almost… expectant.
“What can we do for you, Mistress?” one of the robots asked over an open channel.
Rhea cocked her head and couldn’t help a malicious grin. She looked at Will.
“Did you know this would happen?” Will asked.
“No,” she replied. “I was acting instinctively. Apparently, these nano machines have more abilities than I was aware of. Far more abilities.” She returned her attention to the robots. “Go back to your ship, and report back to your superiors.”
“What shall we say?” the same robot asked.
“Tell your superiors the cargo checks out,” Rhea said. “There are no stowaways aboard. The shuttle was merely delivering supplies. Himalayan sea salt. If they ask you why the delivery shuttle landed near the pipeline, you can say the owner is an ardent collector of light field volumes.” Those were recordings of three-dimensional space that captured all light coming into a given area, so that the scene could be faithfully reproduced in virtual reality. “And he wanted to augment his collection with a view from beneath the pipeline. If your superiors inquire about your faceplates, tell them they were accidentally damaged during exit, due to a pressure mismatch. You will delete the logs of this conversation.”
“Understood,” the robot said.
She added one final instruction. “Once you are aboard your ship, continue obeying orders from your immediate superiors, until you hear from me again.”
She returned the pistol she had taken from the first robot and the two machines departed. The Wardenites flattened themselves against the bulkheads as the robots passed. It seemed obvious to Rhea that the men didn’t really trust them and didn’t want to allow the machines to get too close.
The hatch closed behind the robots and a moment later she felt the temporary vibrations as their craft broke away.
“Well, that was interesting,” Will said.
“You really think they’re going to follow through with what you told them?” Miles asked.
“Guess we’ll find out,” she replied to the albino. She glanced at Targon. “Set a course for Mars.”
She collected her gloves and entered the cargo hold. She set up her sleeping bag, securing it to the deck between the crates.
The others joined her and followed her example.
Targon jetted inside a short while later. “I set a course for Mars as ye asked. So far, customs is leaving us alone. Whatever ye did to those robots, it seems to be working.”
“Thanks for risking your neck for us,” Rhea told the man.
“And ye better not forget it, Warden!” Targon said. “I’ll be expecting ye to make up for this with many, many Robot Wars sessions.”
“I’m looking forward to it actually,” she said. “However, I have a request. While I’m okay with you recording all of our gaming sessions so you can stream them when you get back, I have to ask that you don’t rebroadcast what happened with the robots just now.”
Targon seemed hesitant. “But that was the best part!”
“Maybe,” she said. “But if people see that, a lot of them won’t understand. They’ll think I’m… I don’t know, an abomination. Dangerous.”
“Well, everyone knows ye are dangerous…” the merchant said. “Ye are the Warden, after all.”
“Please, do this for me,” she said. “I don’t want my enemies to know what I’m capable of.”
Targon sighed. “All right, all right, it’ll be our little secret. But ye are going to have to make up for it with some memorable Robot Wars games, I tell ye!”
“I will,” she promised.
“I want all of yer friends involved, too.” A gleam came to his eye as he ran his gaze across the Wardenites. “Fresh meat.”
“They’re looking forward to playing you,” she lied. “By the way, how did the other
